


Rhythm & Balance

by redphlox



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Cowboy Bebop AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:00:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 40,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22344493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redphlox/pseuds/redphlox
Summary: Maka swears to take justice into her own hands after her mama is murdered, but bounty hunting is a much more lonely and dangerous life than she expected. That is, at least until she partners up with a devil-may-care loner who goes by the nickname Eater. Together, the two chase blind leads across the Solar System through wild chases, gun fights, sting operations, and the occasional enemy-turned-friend. The handful of real clues they find, however, point toward death. COWBOY BEBOP AU
Relationships: Maka Albarn & Soul Eater Evans, Maka Albarn/Soul Eater Evans, Wes Evans/Nakatsukasa Tsubaki
Comments: 17
Kudos: 35
Collections: Soul Eater Resonance Bang 2019





	1. over and out!

**Author's Note:**

> hey, space cowpokes! i'm so excited to present this cowboy bebop au for resbang 2019 hosted by resbangmod on tumblr! please check out my super talented, witty, and patient artist partner bbbutterfingers's beautiful art for this fic on her tumblr! she really brought this whole au to life! i also want to thank lunar–resonance and soundofez for combing through this fic, helping me string coherent words together, and being my moral support. lmao. i love y'all!
> 
> let's get on with the fic. please enjoy, and let me know what you think!
> 
> warnings: cartoon/canon-typical violence and gore, possible major character death, weapons, smoking.

**Rhythm & Balance** by _redphlox_

Death reaches Maka Albarn yet again, this time over the spaceship radio. She listens to the news report with practiced detachment while tightening her pigtails in the rearview mirror:

_Today marks a whole year since a family of four was found decapitated in their burnt-down home on Earth. There are still no leads in the case but one thing is certain: there were no survivors. No witnesses have come forward. The suspect, a male chainsaw-type Weapon, has been on the New Lord's Most Wanted list since._

Maka cuts the engine, hops out, and heads for the store. 

Where do souls go when they die? She wonders. Do souls sleep? If they’re lost and won’t ever come back, are the living left alone?

She gets no satisfaction thinking about it but can’t stop. 

Sighing, Maka squints into the darkness of space until she spots a distant blue planet and wonders what it would be like to look above and not see black or a haze of yellow… to walk on grass instead of the man-made metal sidewalks on asteroids or the reddish, cracked dirt she’s always known on Mars. 

With a resigned kick to a small rock at her feet, she pockets her hands and goes about running her errands, her boots _click-click-clicking_ across the littered but deserted convenience store parking lot. A comet shoots by in the corner of her eye, but it’s nothing special - there’s always one somewhere in the distance, especially out here in space where the silence is deafening and the stars seem like holes in the universe. 

Not even the chime above the door to the store disrupts her thoughts. In a daze, she goes around collecting bread, fruit, face wash, and a pint of ice cream, but when a beat-up spaceship blasting loud techno music jerks to a stop dangerously close to the entrance, Maka snaps out of her daydream. Instinct prompts her to duck into the junk food aisle as two blondes saunter inside, grinning madly at the stupefied cashier.

Maka dares to poke her head around the corner just in time to see one of them transform into a pistol in the other's hand. 

"I'm sure you know the drill," the taller girl drawls, pointing the barrel to the employee with confident ease that only comes with experience. "Give me your money. All of it."

The cashier's hands dip shakily into the register. Maka slides out of her hiding place, her gun unholstered and aimed at the robber, who snorts at the display of bravery. 

"Oh, don't tell me you're one of those wannabe space cowboys! _Death_ , can you believe this, Patti?" 

The pistol's chuckles ring out along with the clink of coins from the register dropping into a knapsack. "She's silly, Sissy Liz!" 

"Drop your weapon and surrender peacefully," Maka instructs, hand steady. The girls' names trigger a vivid memory of the New Lord's Wanted List, specifically to a pair of sisters who dared assault _Him_ and actually caused injury. 

Liz and Patti Thompson. 

The bounty on them is _astronomical._

Not that Maka is in this for the money. She's here to clean the Solar System, one rotten soul at a time. 

Tilting her head and giggling to herself, the blonde smirks at Maka, sizing her up coldly. "You're a runt. Do yourself a favor and quit while you still can."

Two things happen in the length of a second: Maka pulls the trigger and the warning bullet zooms past Liz's left eye, scraping skin and cutting hair. Then the light of transformation sparks and Liz's pistol is human again, one with a short bob, a short temper, and in short supply of mercy. 

"How _DARE_ you hurt my sissy!" Patti screeches, springing toward Maka with the madness and abruptness of a clown popping out of a Jack-in-the-Box toy. Sharp fingernails dig into Maka's cheeks, scratching down to her neck like a cat. Maka regains her balance and composure enough to fire another warning shot, this time toward the ceiling. Unbridled anger contorts Patti's face as she jumps back to reassess the situation, apparently thinking the bullet was meant for _her_. 

Liz gingerly touches her wound. She rubs the blood between her fingers in disbelief. The cashier, now scared witless, drops the knapsack and falls to the floor in a trembling, blubbering mess. 

Fresh scratches on her face tingling, Maka continues to point the gun at Liz. "I _said_ , surrender peacefully. Next time I shoot, I _will_ aim to take you down."

The bell above the door chimes again, signaling a newcomer. Maka spares a glance to investigate: a tall, unsuspecting boy saunters into the store - no, a young _man_ , complete with a messy undercut, ripped black jeans, and a devil-may-care air about him. 

An oblivious idiot. 

"Hey, you got a working Icee machine in this dump or not? This is my third stop and none of the others…" His mouth hangs open at the sight of Maka's weapon, eyes widening as he takes in Liz's bloody face. 

Everyone and everything freezes, even time - except for Patti. She takes advantage of the unexpected interruption to pounce on Maka again, fist colliding with Maka's cheek. The world melts into a whirl of colors and an array of pain, and Maka hyperfocuses on the unnatural pointiness of Patti's knuckles. 

_Curses_. She must be wearing a spiked ring of some sort. 

Still stunned by the attack, Maka catches a glimpse of Patti's brass knuckles as Patti unsheathes a small knife from her pocket. It dawns on Maka that she can't _breathe_ and her surroundings are still a blur, her mind short circuiting with the knowledge that the knife is meant for _her._ Pain radiates across Maka's face, coupled with a jarring _crack_ as the back of her head slams against the dusty tiled floor. 

Oh, so she's finally down, Maka realizes distantly, with Patti jumping on top of her like a lion after its prey. The gleam of murder in Patti's eyes as she reels back her arm to strike paralyzes Maka, who goes deaf with fear and stomach-shriveling disappointment. 

With grief. 

Was this how her mama felt during her last moments, too? 

Maka flinches as Patti begins to bring down the knife, helpless, defenseless, accepting that at least it'll be over soon. Not that the thought is a consoling one. In a span of three seconds, Maka went from taking two outlaws down to being taken down. Now she's about to die feeling sorry for herself. 

If only she could fight back, if only she weren't scared stiff and disconnected from reality, from her nerves. Maybe this is the body's last defense mechanism against experiencing the full force of Death. 

Above Maka, Patti suddenly snaps out of her murderous rage, knife hovering mid-air. With a confused blink, she throws a glance behind her shoulder and scowls in defeat. The tension in her body dissipates, leaving her visibly disgruntled. 

Maka's senses return slowly, her ears finally discerning sounds, like someone slowly turned up the volume dial in her brain. She raises her head to investigate. 

"... So I wouldn't hurt her if I were you," the boy is saying, raising an eyebrow. He has Liz in a headlock, his arm-turned-scythe snuggled ever so gently against her neck, warningly. Apparently he had moved into action while Maka was being mowed down. "A soul for a soul."

"That would be an uneven trade," is Patti's easy reply as she abandons Maka, dropping her knife. "No one is worth it. I would never trade anybody or anything for my sissy."

He grins sharply, but no joy reaches his eyes. 

"Good. Keep it that way," he says, arm melting back into bone and flesh. 

Not taking his gaze off the shorter blonde, he releases the teary, red-faced Liz, who gasps for breath as she stumbles toward the door and into her sister's arms. The two share a perfunctory embrace and simultaneously send death glares to Maka and the boy. 

"We'll get even," Liz promises sadistically as they leave. 

The bell chimes again, only to be drowned out by the roar of their spaceship engine rumbling and rattling and zooming out into the black emptiness of space. 

In the newfound silence, they hear a whimper from behind the counter. Maka had forgotten all about the cashier.

"Do you have a working Icee machine or not, man?" the boy asks, straining to peer behind the counter. 

Still a blubbering mess, the employee rips their name tag off and runs out screaming. 

Maka gulps, amazed she's alive, albeit lying on the gross convenient store floor. 

"Guess I'll have to stop somewhere else," the boy grumbles, walking over to Maka and squatting down beside her. "You still alive there?" 

"How _insensitive_ ," she thinks only to be surprised by her own voice. It sounds ungrateful, but honestly, she's in shock and slightly embarrassed that she had to be rescued in the first place. The daughter of the former Chief of Police should be the last person who needs a savior. 

Disregarding what she said, the boy offers a hand to help her up. 

Maka ignores it, propping herself up on her elbow first, carefully, because her head is still spinning from hitting the floor. 

She pouts at him. "Aren't you going to say sorry?" 

The boy backs away, giving her space and an honest look. "For what? Saving you?" 

By now Maka is trying to sit up, taking in deep, slow, measured breaths and concentrating on the assortment of energy drinks in front of her. Are they moving, or is she the wobbly one? She gently wipes at her cheek to confirm that yep, she's bleeding. 

"For making me drop my guard," she corrects, watching him shake his head and straighten again, heading for the cash register. A sinking feeling strikes Maka: oh no, what if he's a thief too, and she's been tricked? 

But something in her gut urges her to _trust_ him. 

Too bad she's not one to let down her defenses so easily. 

"Sit," he commands, patting the empty space on the counter where customers usually place their purchases. "I'll patch you up."

Maka decides she has no room to argue. Blood is seeping between her fingers where she's cupping her cheek. Settled on the counter, she even swings her legs like she's a patient at a doctor's office as he wanders away into the aisles with an air of indifference. 

"What happened, anyway?" he asks. The sound of items being picked up and placed back down on the metal shelves irks Maka for reasons she can't articulate. "At first I thought it was a good ol' cowpoke gunfight but that didn't make sense, seeing as we're in a _store_."

"I almost had them," Maka says accusingly as he emerges from the aisle carrying a first aid kit. "Don't you know who they were? Liz and Patti _Thompson_. They were the ones who infiltrated the New Lord Death's lair a few weeks ago. They broke his arm when he tried to subdue him. I was about to bring them in to the station when you came in."

He snorts. "Seems like they almost had _you_. Now don't move and let me see."

When Maka refuses to move her hand, he pries it off, squinting at her wound. Maka stares at him too, but not because he's injured. Up close, she discovers everything about him is white - his shaggy hair, his brows, even his eyelashes. What strikes her the most are his eyes: they're brown and red at the same time. 

He gloves up. "OW," she complains as he starts to clean her wound. She pushes him away, shivering.

"That's why you don't get your ass kicked." When she doesn't stop squirming, he grabs the back of her head with one hand to hold her still as he rubs the alcohol swab on her face. "It's not even a bad cut, baby."

Maka's face burns red, not because she's being babied, but because he called her one. "You have some nerve, thinking you're better than me. You just, just," she sputters, scrambling to think of an insulting enough word to describe how he walks, " _waltz_ in during a robbery in progress like you're so _cool-_ "

He bursts into a fit of laughter. Genuine laughter, the kind that _does_ reach his eyes, lighting up his face and bringing out a dimple. Her pulse quickens for a second, the way it does when she reads a beautiful line in a poem. _Huh_ , she's never seen such a nice smile… 

She shakes the thought, jarred by her own reaction. Maybe she should get checked for a concussion. 

"I can't decide if you wanted to insult me or compliment me," he says, rubbing neosporin on her cheek, "so I'll accept it as a thank you."

 _That_ sets her off again. "Wow, unbelievable! You're actually imagining that I thanked you. You're so arrogant I can't believe you're not tipping over because your head is so inflated!" 

By now he's preparing a bandaid for her, nonchalant as ever. "Don't I deserve one though? A thank you, I mean. I could've been killed too. Or I could have just left you to deal with it alone."

"I would have been okay," she says, stubbornly crossing her arms across her chest. 

Then she's all bandaged up and he's carefully removing his gloves, shrugging. "Sure thing, baby."

"And don't call me that. I'm not a baby. I'm _nobody's_ baby."

"'Kay," he says simply, like he doesn't care, has never cared, and won't ever care about anything. 

Maka hates that he doesn't throw more sarcastic comments her way. Of course, as a stranger he has no reason to argue with her, but she was starting to like their banter. Oh well. She hops off the counter, their height difference further irritating her. At five foot two, she could have stood on a small step stool and on her tippy toes and still would not be nose to nose with him. 

"Good," she huffs, hoping she's menacing enough. 

He doesn't back away. "Good."

"... Fine."

Silence. They look at each other expectantly. 

Maka isn't good at goodbyes, not even with strangers. The universe is so big, so lonely, she probably won't ever see him again. She figures it's okay to stare and try to remember every detail of his face, since it's pleasant. After all, he _did_ save her, but her bruised ego can't handle that reality. If they ever bump into each other again, maybe she'll be ready to thank him. Suddenly it dawns on her that she's not had contact with another person in _weeks_ , and she should at least visit her papa. 

The boy holds out his hand. "I go by Eater, by the way."

She ignores his gesture of friendship again, suspicious of how he introduced himself. Not, 'my name is…' but some other weird alias. "What kind of a name is that?" 

"A temporary one," he replies, walking backward toward the door and playfully pretending to shoot her with his pointer finger instead of waving bye. "See you, space cowgirl."

_Bang bang._

X

Papa still lives in the same house on Mars. He has kept every picture frame, furniture piece, dishware, and even small trinket in the exact same position it had been on the day Maka's mama died. The soft-hearted dope claims that it's so "your mama doesn't get too confused when she comes back.” Maka can't stand him or his reasonings. 

Where do souls go when they die, anyway? 

They don't come back soon enough. That's a fact. 

Maka lets herself inside, yelling out a gruff, "I'm home!"

The man that comes bounding down the hallway to meet her is almost unrecognizable. It's ironic that the only thing that's changed in their home is _him_. While he has kept his hair chin-length as long as Maka can remember, it now hangs to his mid-back in knots and clumps, its sheen lost to grief. Before, Spirit Albarn would have never stepped outside in wrinkled clothes and without a happy-go-lucky grin, but now her papa _is_ the definition of a mess. His smile lacks mirth, devoid of its lady-killer sparkle. 

It’s Hell to look at him. 

Maka makes sure to turn her head so that he won't immediately be greeted by the bandaid stretched across her cheek. 

"My little _angel_ ," he coos, face softening and searching her hungrily, as though he'll never see her again. "My sweet little precious angel, my Maka. I've missed you."

And then he tears up. Sure, he's an obnoxious, suffocating, overprotective drama queen and undoubtedly the source of future ulcers, but her subconscious can’t help but mirror his pain. If he’s crying, it’s okay for her to cry too, right? A film of tears glosses over her eyes, her throat knotting bitterly. The only preventative measure she can take to fend off waterworks is to bury herself in his arms for a bear hug like she did time and time again as a little girl.

“I’ve missed you too, Papa…”

“You don’t have to stay away so long.” The desperation in his tone comes across as more pleading than stating to Maka’s hypersensitive ears. “If you stay, you never even have to leave the house, like me!”

Maka can’t find the words to gently explain to her papa that reducing himself into a hermit isn’t going to bring her mama back or cure his loneliness. Life requires _action_ , taking matters into one’s own hands no matter the dangers or consequences. Space is so _big_ , what good will come of barricading herself from both its ugliness and its marvels? Papa should know, he’s an explorer at heart - but when her mama died… well, it must have changed his heart. 

Instead of begging him to snap out of it, Maka hugs him tighter and squeezes her eyes shut. If only she could protect him from himself just as he wants to protect her from herself. Maybe that’s the Albarn curse; caring too much, with too little power to protect their loved ones. 

“I miss her too, Papa.” She pauses, gulping down more sorrow. Will it ever go away? “If you go out into the universe, you don’t ever have to see ghosts or be haunted by the memories of Mama, like me.”

Papa lets out a deep, tired sigh, patting her head. “They’d follow me around, though. I can’t escape.”

A choked sob escapes Maka’s throat. _Ugh_. Why do grief and regret and forgiveness have to be so corny? The whole Solar System knew about Papa’s extramarital affairs, but no one cared more than Maka and her mama. Not that their nosy neighbors had any right to be more outraged than the ones who were fouled, but after Chief of Police Albarn was murdered… 

_Before_ , Papa had worked directly with Lord Death as his demon scythe weapon, the greatest honor and rank any human soul could ever desire. While many people deemed him unfit for such a title because of his wandering, unfaithful eyes and hands, they certainly scorned him with more ardent hate _after_ Lord Death's murder. It served to prove that Spirit Albarn was unfit to serve their sovereign from the beginning. His wife's passing was fuel to the already raging inferno. This man couldn't protect anything or anyone, not his marriage or his God. 

What's more ironic is that Maka practically led this parade of Anti-Spirit scorn before her mama passed. Ever since spying her papa kissing her kindergarten teacher during a parent-teacher conference, Maka had kept a long running list of grievances against her papa, refusing his hugs and company and love despite being a daddy's girl. Sure, she missed the bedtime stories, the tucking-ins at bedtime, their trips to the library, their picnics, their hugs, but little Maka had committed to a grudge and therefore loved him begrudgingly, deep deep _deep_ down so no one knew. In her five-year-old mind, it was the right thing to do, the worst punishment he could suffer. And that's how she continued to view the situation throughout her childhood and teenage years, as marked by her pouts in family pictures when she was forced to stand near him. 

When Lord Death’s reign ended after his murder, Maka broke her childhood promise to distance herself from her papa and actually hugged him while he sobbed. It wasn’t Papa’s fault. Lord Death’s own son Asura did what the universe thought was impossible and brought Death upon the God of Death. It was a paradox that sent cold chills throughout space. If their God Lord Death was not immune to the horrors of suffering, then what did that mean for humanity? Maka couldn’t study faster to graduate and join the ranks protecting the masses from themselves. It seemed like the only thing keeping the evil in people’s souls at bay was fear of Lord Death. 

But now He was dead, and hell had broken loose. 

Really, it was more like his reign had ended. _The king is dead, long live the king_ , or however the saying went in the ancient monarch-led civilizations on Earth. Unlike the Earth’s natural resources, Lord Death’s energy could regenerate, and thus he lived on through his two sons, one filled with malice and the other goodness. Although his youngest heir Death the Kid stepped up to fill in his father's shoes and successfully captured and killed Asura, the madness Asura aimed to spread throughout the Solar System still continued to do so despite his absence. 

It was like life as everyone knew it was ending, but no one wanted to admit it. Maybe being in Space was finally causing humanity to go crazy and violent. Maka’s mama practically moved into her office at the Space Force headquarters and called to check in on Maka and Papa every hour on the hour. Papa couldn’t manage to utter a single word until five days after Lord Death's murder. He had told Maka, "God abandoned us. No one can save us now."

It was like a prophecy. 

A week later, Maka's mama died. 

For the first few hours, she was only classified as _missing in action_ after calling in a disturbance and then going radio-silent. Tracking down her location took a bit of investigative work because the New Lord Death hadn’t received word of her signal, but when they finally found her on Earth's moon… 

Maka Albarn promised herself she would never lose anyone ever again. 

Honestly, Papa's reclusive lifestyle is a means to hide from accusing glares and harsh whispers of his failures and shortcomings. He had told Maka the worst is the look of pure pity he would get while at the grocery store, so now he gets his necessities delivered and always waits till the early morning hours to retrieve his packages from the porch to avoid neighbors catching a glimpse of him. 

When Maka puts herself in his shoes, she has no trouble understanding how living at their house seems safe to her papa. Normal. If everything looked the same, it should _be_ the same, right? Mama isn't dead. She's out running an errand. It's her day off and she's planning to spend it at home with her husband, still married and loyal to him for reasons her only daughter Maka can't explain. Spirit is watching his favorite show and cooking a warm dinner for his wife when she gets home. She's just running late, but she'll be back in a moment. 

"Well," Maka clears her throat, fighting off memories, choosing her words carefully, "let's go somewhere, just me and you. You should show me the dark side of the Moon. It was Mama’s favorite spot, right?”

She feels her papa shaking his head tiredly. “No, I can’t bear to go back there. Some places are too holy to ever revisit.” Suddenly, he gets a burst of energy, as if he’s been awoken. “Maka, I know you want to bring your mama’s killer to justice,” he begins, pulling away and holding her at arm’s length, “but you - _what_ happened to your face?” 

Sheepish, Maka squints and covers the bandaid with her palm as though her papa would forget about it if only it’s obscured from his sight. “I had an… _incident_.”

Papa squeezes her shoulders, urgent and concerned. The ghost of his old-self shines through in the first time since the funeral. Maka revels in the familiarity of it despite the brewing argument - after all, she had come for comfort and company, not to create distance between herself and her papa. “You shouldn’t do this bounty-hunting business anymore. Go back to the academy. You’ll learn to track down criminals safely-”

“The law takes too much time.” Maka begs herself not to shrug off her papa’s hands. He’s only trying to reach her, she chants to herself, he’s not forcing her to stay home or forbidding her to chase after the Chainsaw Weapon who mangled her mama so badly that only a DNA test could positively identify the body. Maka's papa merely wants to protect her, guide her away from a dangerous path… and yet, she wishes he'd understand that she _can't_ sit on the sidelines. 

“It’s a suicide mission, Maka.”

“No, Papa. I'm coming out of this alive. I'll be careful and I _will_ win. I'm catching him and bringing him straight to the New Lord Death. I promise."

A tear rolls down her cheek when she blinks, surprising her. Papa pays no attention to it, refusing to break eye contact with her. He gives her a small nod before pulling her in for another tight, reassuring hug. 

X

"Black Star God to Rookie Piggie, Black Star God to Rookie Piggie, do you read me? Over. _Khzz!_ ”

From her bed, Maka shoots the CB radio a dirty look and wiggles further underneath her blankets. It’s been one of _those_ days, when both her energy and desire seemed to have run away and left her a shell of exhaustion and irritability. The radio explodes with more summons from Black Star, annoying Maka enough to force her to roll out of bed and handle the situation before the dude actually shows up in the flesh. 

“10-3, over. _Khzz!_ ” What she really means is, “ _Stop talking to me_. _Leave me alone. Don't send me any more messages. I don't want to talk.”_

Not leaving time for Black Star to respond, she runs back to hide under her pillow. 

"Aww, c’mon Maks, don't be a grouch. Kilik wants to say hi before we hit the casino for some cash money dinerooooo! Over. _Khhzz!_ "

Groaning, a defeated Maka rolls out of bed again, huddles by the table, and picks up the receiver groggily. "Hi Kilik. Over. _Khhzz_!"

"Hi Maka," a new voice says through the static. "We miss you at the academy. You're the only one who can calm Star down. Over. _Khhzz_!"

"I've retired from that job. The benefits were awful. I'm never going back. Over. _Khhzz_!"

Black Star comes back on to blow a raspberry at her, daring her to return and say that to his face. It's probably an excuse to convince her to come back to the academy and physically restrain her so she can't leave. But Maka has already decided she won't ever step foot there again. The Space Force failed to promptly send her mama backup in her time of need. If they had, maybe she'd still be alive. So no, Maka won't be a part of that system. 

"What do you want, Star? _Khhzz!_ " 

"You didn't say 'over'. Over. _Khhzz!"_

Maka rolls her eyes and repeats herself, making sure to convey her exasperation. 

"Maka, we wanted to update you on the status of the Chainsaw Weapon." It's Kilik again. Maka's blood runs cold at the mention of her mama's murderer. "We wanted to tell you in person, but… there’s a rumor going around. About the Chainsaw Weapon. Over. _Khhzz!_ ”

“Just go ahead and tell me,” she snaps. Her patience has been thin, if not absent. 

But of course, Black Star never ceases to get on her nerves. “That’s classified information. Recruit privilege only. And you didn’t say ‘over’. Over! _Khhzz_!” 

Maka imagines the two roommates and Space Force partners on break, lounging in their house aka ship eating burgers and sweet potato fries and reminiscing about _Before._ Their futures looked bright and peaceful and fulfilling then. They were young recruits with the hope of continuing the peace that Lord Death brought upon humanity after Earth became too populated and polluted to inhabit. Their Lord granted them the ability to survive in space at the price of restricting Earth and its beauty to a select few who were gifted with the task of restoring it. While some argued that this would create distinct social classes, Lord Death promised nothing like that would happen, and thus most of humanity ventured into space. 

But that was five hundred years ago. That was _Before._ Now the general masses worry Lord Death's gift of survival outside of Earth would wear off after his demise, but he's been gone for a year and a half and no one's dropped dead of oxygen deprivation just yet… 

What's going to end humanity is humanity, Maka thinks. The news reports prove it - at least one person is being murdered every day.

This is the end, but maybe if she catches the Chainsaw Weapon she can salvage whatever is left of humanity. 

The radio crackles again. Kilik goes on, "You know, we read a report that said Liz and Patti Thompson were spotted at the convenience store on the left side of the asteroid belt. The employee who worked the overnight shift said that the sisters tried to rob money from the store but were unsuccessful because of a pigtailed bounty hunter. Do you know anything about that? Over. _Khhzz_!"

Maka bites her bottom lip, inspecting her nails. _Dan_ g, she's really awful at this bounty hunting thing, but then again she's only three months into it. Kilik, the rational one in their trio, had tried to stop Maka from setting out to capture her Mama's killer. "You need to process your grief or you'll be consumed by it," he'd said, or something like that. He hadn't understood that there hadn't - still hasn't - been time for that, not with a murder occurring every day. But there simply hasn’t been time for that, not with a murder occurring every day. 

“I almost had them,” Maka sighs, remembering that white-haired boy and wondering if he ever got his Icee. “But then a bystander got in the way. OVER. _Khhzz_.”

Kilik refuses to give up the information until she’s reassured them that yes, she’s fine, and yes, it was in fact Liz and Patti Thompson, and no, they’re not scary-looking thugs with huge muscles and superhuman strength. They’re just two cowboy-hat wearing, trigger-happy girls with an affinity for lawlessness. No big deal. Maka refrains from telling them about the gash on her cheek - it’ll leave a scar, but she can make something up about it later. 

“What about the bystander?” Kilik wants to know, with Black Star obnoxiously yelling in the background. 

“Just some dumb civilian,” Maka explains, loath to admit she’s thought about him more than necessary. He pops into her mind at odd intervals, like popcorn kernels popping in a microwave. “So what’s the big secret?! _Khzz_!”

“There’s going to be a bust in TJ tomorrow. A Chainsaw-Type Weapon was sighted there.Over. _Khzz_!”

Maka’s blood runs cold. Her vision blurs, her hands go clammy. Whether she’s ready for not, she _has_ to be there, and she has to beat the Space Force to the punch. Kilik warns her to not do anything stupid with this information while Black Star, who can never read the severity of any situation and can’t stand not being the center of attention, yells around what sounds a mouth full of Doritos, “IT’S A 23-19, 10-4!”

“You’re not even using the right lingo, you obtuse triangle,” Maka growls into the receiver. “Overand out!”

_Khhz!!_

X 


	2. darkness spreads easily

_Welcome to Tijuana! Where darkness doesn't spread easily!_

...At least that's what the welcoming sign originally read. Someone had taken a yellow spray paint can and crossed out 'welcome to' and replaced it with 'die in'. And of course, the sign now claims that darkness _does_ spread easily. 

Not sure whether to interpret the message as an omen or a sign of luck, Maka leaves the safety of her spaceship, pays for parking, and sets off down the sidewalk in search of any signs of trouble. She's completely starstruck for the first hour. Rumor has it that this city most closely resembles what Earth used to look like: baby blue skies, cotton-like clouds, palm trees, vendors on every street corner, mom and pop restaurants between houses and businesses, and what they call 'traffic lights' to direct the flow of cars driving around aimlessly. Maka has never been here or on Earth, but it's a slice of heaven, a beauty. 

What a shame humanity never took care of their Earth and now they're banished to the eternal blackness of space. 

It's crowded in TJ. For a while Maka loses herself amongst strangers and sightseeing before reminding herself she has a mission to complete. There's no sign of the Space Force, not one officer patrolling the area on foot or by vehicle. Maybe she's a step ahead of them, justice at the tip of her fingers. Then again, she's not sure what she's looking for, but she's confident she'll know when she finds it. 

Until then, she's thirsty and the burning along her forehead and cheeks warns that she needs a break from the unforgiving sun. She's not used to getting an abundance of it -- after all, only little of it trickles through Mars's dusty atmosphere. 

She steps through the double saloon doors of the first bar she finds. Twelve pairs of eyes immediately turn their attention to her, but only one set takes her breath away.

Eater's.

And why wouldn't they leave her out of sorts? They're a rich brown, striking and recognizable alone even with a black bandana covering the lower half of his face and his white hair stuffed into a black cowboy hat. 

Meeting him here is like a dream, really. As much as Maka has randomly thought about him in the two weeks since the incident, she never imagined they would actually be in the same room again. She can’t help but stare to make sure it’s him: same eye shape, same devil-may-care attitude. It’s him, all right, and she can’t resist a grin.

"I'm telling you, this is all an illusion by the First Lord Death," one of the men at the table finally continues, breaking the silence by throwing down a card. Slowly, all of their eyes leave Maka and return to their game. The bartender goes back to polishing the glass in his hand, the couple at the far end of the bar facing forward quietly but still obviously listening to the men's conversation. 

Eater's gaze is the last to leave Maka, winking to convey the message: _I recognize you, too._

"You mean the dead one?" he says to the conspiracy theorist, the crooked grin evident in his tone of voice. 

"They _say_ he's dead, but I don't believe it. How can the God of Death DIE? That's ridiculous. He's probably watching us right now, planning how to torture all of humanity until we all kill each other."

"Yer crazy," the other orange mustached man says simply. "We're all alone out here now, nothing but ants left to them’s own devices."

Maka walks softly toward a barstool, ears perked to their conversation. Somehow Eater's voice consoles her a bit -- maybe she's not alone in this town after all. "Nah. Both of you loonies are right. Death doesn't die, but the dead don't come back from death either." 

Maka takes advantage of the quiet gameplay to order a glass of lemon water and retie her pigtails. 

Then Eater declares, "Aaaaand… you all owe me money."

The other two men groan, the sound of coins and paper money hitting the wooden table. Eater's low chuckle hums throughout the quiet saloon, vibrating in Maka's chest. To distract herself, she darts a glance down to the other end of the bar, watching a woman apply black lipstick in a spider-shaped compact mirror. She smacks her lips together, apparently satisfied with the end result, and trades in her beauty tools for a folding fan.

"Giriko, I need a drink," the woman announces with a snobbish air. "An acai blueberry drink. A cold one."

“Yes, Madam Arachne.” The man beside her beckons the bartender and places an order gruffly, adding, "And make it snappy."

Maka smooths down her skirt on her lap and sits with her hands folded on the countertop, nervous to be in such distasteful company, until she decides she can't look wimpy and allows herself to slump over a bit. Part of her wishes she could join Eater at the table. She would definitely feel safer in any ally’s company, even if she's only met him once before. 

Behind her, Eater lets out a chuckle at one of the men's grumbling about being a loser. Maka wishes she could turn around and watch him laugh. Instead she plays with the lemon in her drink with her biodegradable straw, wishing she had some clue as to the Chainsaw-type weapon’s whereabouts. 

And then, just like that, she doesn't need an excuse to talk to Eater because someone bursts into the saloon and provides one.

"Hands up, money out," a familiar cocky voice singsongs, followed by the equally familiar sound of human-to-weapon transformation and gun cocking.

Maka hides her face in her palm, exasperated. She doesn't even need to turn to know who it is. This is too much like deja vu of the other night at the convenience store, and if it turns out anything like last time, it won't end well for her. 

The black-haired woman shoots the newcomer a look that could kill, eyes narrowing like slits. 

"You too, pretty lady," Liz says. "And give me your necklace." 

Amazingly, the woman relaxes, fanning herself again as if she hadn't heard Liz's demands. The man next to her, though, finally straightens out of his hunched over position. A gasp rips through Maka when chainsaws erupt from the soles of the man’s shoes and propel him toward Liz like motorized roller skates. Unlike last time, Liz recovers from the unexpected resistance to the holdup and shoots straight at his face. Maka expects the bullets to mercilessly fly straight through him, but he opens his mouth to chew and swallow them like they are nothing but juicy grapes. 

The bartenders drops his glass. It drops with a crash, signaling madness. The two men at the poker table hit the floor for cover while Eater stands up, his chair falling back, and throws himself between the chainsaw weapon and Liz. His arm melts into metal again, soft flesh hardening into deadly sharpness that glints in the light. It's obvious to Maka that he has a hero complex - but then again, so does she, because she draws her gun and shoots at the Chainsaw-weapon before she can blink. 

Eater hacks at the man’s leg with detached carelessness. Any other human would have lost their limb, but not this man -- this heinous _Chainsaw-type_ weapon barely flinches at Eater’s scythe, which has zero effect on him anyway, aside from providing a momentary distraction. The opportunity goes to waste, though. Instead of fending off her attacker, Liz recognizes Eater and instead pistol whips _him._

“I told you we’d get even!” she seethes, smacking him again. A crazed giggle emanates from the pistol - Patti’s, Maka recognizes distantly before springing into action, knocking it out of Liz’s hand. Patti transforms into her human form, grimacing and opening her mouth to bellow a protest when the roar of a chainsaw drowns out their commotion. 

Maka’s blood is _ice_. It’s the soundtrack of the nightmares where she’s floating above the murder scene, watching her mama get butchered by a faceless weapon… except now Maka now has a face to put to her mama’s murderer - she’s looking right at him, and she couldn’t look away even if her life depended on it. His features are now ingrained into her mind: a bridge piercing, a crop of lifeless orange hair, jagged, plaque-y yellow teeth… 

Meeting his eyes for the first time sends chills down to her very soul. 

He takes a single step her way and gives her a sadistic grin, which is quickly wiped off by a kick to the side of his face by Eater. 

In an instant, Eater has the man called Giriko in a chokehold and seconds later someone pulls Maka back by the hair. Tears automatically roll down Maka’s cheeks but she keeps her scream locked behind gritted teeth, loath to give her attacker the satisfaction. 

“I _told_ you we’d get even,” Liz whispers in Maka’s ear, her voice void of its usual jolliness. 

Maka instinctively elbows her, knocking the blonde off and successfully gaining the upper hand until an overprotective Patti belly flops on top of both girls. Teeth sink into Maka's forearm as the chainsaw buzzing roars to life. Maka catches a glimpse of Eater sneaking in swipes and jabs at Giriko while jumping out of the saw's deadly swings. Indignant screams fill Maka's ears and it's not until Liz slaps her that Maka realizes she herselfis the one slipping into madness. 

Hands wrap themselves around Maka's neck. 

"Take her out and let's go," Liz says to her sister, and the hands begin to squeeze. 

On the other side of the saloon, Eater trips backward and lands flat on his back, raising his Scythe arm just in time to shield himself from Giriko's Chainsaw. Eater flails his legs but it's as fruitless as Maka trying to loosen Patti's grip. 

“Silence, Giriko,” the woman speaks, her voice entrancing all of them into silence. The chainsaw freezes abruptly as she rises from her stool, her long dress flowing with eerie grace around her ankles. She stops right in front of Liz Thompson. “Come look,” she tells Giriko. “I like the spunk _this_ one has.”

Patti lets go of Maka too, apparently stunned and probably fearful of the woman’s sudden interest in her older sister. Liz looks back at Madam Arachne suspiciously but doesn’t say anything. No one dares move as the woman grabs Liz’s chin, inspecting her critically. 

“You’re no hero, and you can be molded to see our fit,” she declares of Liz, nodding approvingly. The silence thickens until she nods at the blonde. “Come with us.”

Defiant, Liz clenches her jaw and spits at the woman’s feet. “And if I don’t?”

Madam Arachne raises a slightly amused brow. “You have no choice.” 

“My sister has to come too,” is all Liz negotiates. 

When the older woman shrugs, Giriko speaks out: “Madam Arachne, I don’t think-”

Madam Arachne waves a dismissive hand, motioning for him to cease and desist. “That is correct. You do not think. I do. Now, come along, all of you.”

The Thompson sisters exchange a glance and then follow after them, Patti spreading her arms and running in zigzags pretending to be an airplane and Liz kicking a stunned Eater in the ribs for good measure. 

Still dizzy, Maka sucks in a breath and shoots wildly at them, none of her bullets hitting anything except the walls. "Come back here, you _murderer_! Face me for what you did to my mama!" 

Madam Arachne doesn't spare a glance at her and she climbs into the grey spaceship, telling the pilot, "I wish to leave this place, Mosquito. Hurry."

The Chainsaw-type weapon, however, half hangs out of the spaceship door and peers at Maka curiously until recognition inspires a hideous leer to contort his features. 

“Oh, you’re the runt of that cop I took out,” he sneers, wiping his forehead and spreading blood across it in the process. “You look like her… Except your limbs are still attached to your body. What, you want your turn now?”

But before Maka can throw herself at Giriko, Eater catches her by the strap of her messenger bag and pulls her back. No matter how much she tries to break free, she can’t, and Giriko throws her a taunting smirk as the spaceship roars and soars away without her on it. Eater drags her kicking and screaming to the side of the saloon, where he finally releases his grip. She drops to her hands and knees, punching the ground.

“Are you in _sane_?!” Eater’s voice cracks with concern and disbelief. “You can't go with them, you'll die! And you blew your cover! He won’t let you live next time!”

Maka swallows hard, fighting back hot tears. The edges of her vision blurs and she wonders if this is what it’s like blacking out. There’s a first time for everything. “How COULD you? You’re _always_ in the way - you should’ve just let me go! I’m ready to die if it means getting that creep!”

“Everyone thinks they’re ready for death, but it’s impossible to prepare for,” Eater responds coolly as he sighs and collapses against the saloon wall, wrapping a bandana around his thigh. He turns his face away, as if to respect Maka’s privacy, as she sobs herself into a tranquilized stupor, as her tears slowly run dry.

When he does speak again, his voice is soft and kind: “You’ve been looking for him, too?” 

“Yes.”

By now, Maka is surprisingly accustomed to the sound of him walking her way. What’s more of a shock is that she welcomes his inexplicable habit of putting himself at her side. She squints up against the sun to see him remove his cowboy hat as if to bare his honest intentions, his soul - as best as he can without speaking words, at least. 

“Partners?”

Maka, again, is reluctant to take his hand. In retrospect, she’ll desperately wish she had taken the opportunity to touch him, but she doesn’t. Later, she’ll wonder if it would have made a difference. She sniffles, wipes her tears away with a dusty hand, and swallows her sorrows. 

“Partners,” she promises.

X

Two hours later finds them at Maka’s hangar, showered and nursing their wounds. Part of her wonders if it's foolish to invite this stranger into her home, but the thought is fleeting and unfounded. If anything, she's more of a danger to him in his current state. Yes, bruises now decorate Maka’s neck, but they pale in comparison to Eater’s injury, compliments of Giriko’s chainsaw. She's not sure how she missed that his thigh is almost sliced in half - he had to point it out once they arrived, asking if she could spare a bandaid. 

There had been so much blood. 

Though he hasn't complained about being in pain, she senses that he isn’t taking it well by the way he zones in and out at her table as he sips at the soup she heated up for them. It occurs to Maka that he should probably go to the hospital, but he snaps out of his trance when she brings the idea up. 

"I mean, what if you lost too much blood or it needs surgery?" 

"I think I'm okay. I'm in my head too much… Can't believe Giriko got away." Eater taps his fingers on the table before clearing his throat. “Thanks for patching me up.”

“No problem.” Maka, sitting across from him with a slice of bread in each hand, motions to the scar on her cheek. “You had my back, I had yours.”

“Guess so,” he concedes, giving his thigh one more disappointed glance. “It’ll be harder traveling like this… hurts to walk, y’know? It’s going to take me out of bounty hunting for a while.” 

Against the basic rule of life - don’t invite strangers into your home - Maka quickly offers him refuge. "You can stay here for a while, if you want... until you’re ready for me to drop you back off to TJ to get your ride." 

“Don't have one,” is all he replies, and to clear her confusion, adds, “I hitchhiked there.”

Maka’s eyes widen at the revelation. “You _hitchhiked_?” 

“Yeah,” he shrugs, mixing the soup with a spoon and blowing on it before sipping. “No big deal.”

“No big deal," she repeats incredulously, "except there’s a serial killer out there and you’re putting yourself in a vulnerable situation!"

“That’s true, but I already know what he looks like, don’t I?” Eater retorts, reaching for a bread slice. “And I doubt he’s out there offering rides to people. Didn’t you see he has a chauffeur?” 

Maka nearly bites her tongue - how _infuriating_ , how dare he speak to her like this? Half of her wants to kick him out and break off their partnership, but the other more rational, embarrassed side convinces her to calm down and let his attitude slide. Kind of. “ _He_ doesn’t have a chauffeur, that lady Madam Arachne does. It seems like Giriko works for her... And that’s what scares me, because it means he’s not working alone.”

Eater nods, expression grim and contemplative. “His murder sprees seem more organized than what the Space Force think… or what they’ve told the public, anyway.” 

“But why? And why is it only Giriko committing the murders?” Maka hopelessly searches her bowl for answers. “Are there others we don't know about?"

"It's probably too late to try and join them to defeat them from the inside," he bemoans, patting his pockets and fishing out a cigarette packet and lighter. 

"Yeah, now that he knows who I am, like you said before…" Maka watches him light up and squeaks, “Don’t smoke in here!” 

Eater jumps in his seat, putting the cigarette out on a napkin and wafting the smoke away. “Okay, okay, my bad, force of habit, my bad...”

Exasperated, Maka insists, “That’s not an apology!” 

“I’m sorry,” he says, brows furrowed. 

Amazed by his sincerity, all she can muster is a weak, "You shouldn't smoke, you know. It's bad for your health."

Eater shrugs, uncaring. "So is bounty hunting, but I'm not going to stop. And I would bet my left buttcheek that you aren't planning on stopping either." Satisfied that the air in her cramped kitchen is now smoke-free, he gives her his full attention. "Anyway, how are we going to get Giriko?" 

Maka sighs, dreading the impossible suicide mission ahead of them. "We need to get all the information we can on him without giving away our whereabouts or identities. Too bad it won't be as easy as doing research at the library..."

"Oh _no_ ," Eater gripes, visibly fighting back a smile. "You're a bookworm. A _bookworm!_ Wish I'd known you were this nerdy before signing up to die by your side."

"Careful, or I'll chop you on the head with one of the English Lit textbooks I still have," Maka warns, making an axe-swinging motion. It's been a while since anyone teased her for her love of books, and she welcomes the nostalgia for a moment before shaking it off. "So, I was thinking, we could compile everything we know about him and try to find a pattern."

In agreement, Eater offers up what he knows while staring at his thigh: "We know he only ever uses his weapon. His Chainsaw. He doesn't really have a type of victim. They're normal people, weapons and non-weapons, and they never stand a chance… and before today, we thought he worked alone." His fingers twitch, probably itchy for another cigarette. “And now Liz and Patti Thompson are on his side, with that creepy lady.”

"And, of course,” Maka points out eagerly, leaning forward, “we can’t forget about all the random murders that have happened by seemingly normal people. People don't just snap and go mad out of nowhere, it has to be connected. There's also that Earth murder, the Evans family-" 

Eater cringes, covering his mouth as if to hold in vomit. "Don't. Let's not talk about that. That's too much gore for me today."

"I know, it was a horrible massacre, but we have to include it.” Appetite now gone, Maka pushes her soup away, rubbing her eyes. “If anything, it's the tipping point and makes me think that Giriko is getting more deranged, more violent. Maybe Giriko left behind some clues at the murder scene? Maybe there was something different about the Evans family?"

“But all people allowed to live on Earth are different, aren’t they?” The edge in Eater’s tone could cut glass. Maka suppresses an alarmed shiver at the sudden cold and resentful edge to his body language. “They’re not like normal people living on the colonies. They were chosen by Lord Death to heal the planet… they’re ‘special’. All we need to know is _how_ Giriko managed to sneak past the protective barriers Lord Death put up around Earth to get to the Evanses to begin with.”

Maka nods, catching on to Eater’s suspicions about Lord Death, but hesitant to fall down a conspiracy loophole. After all, her mama’s death was also one that could’ve been prevented if only the New Lord Death would break his policy of neutrality. 

“Death knows everything,” Eater goes on. "He probably already knows we don't believe his lies, that I'm here at your house talking crap about him. I don't care."

Wanting to change the subject, she gets up from the table and puts a kettle of water on the stove for tea. "You sound paranoid."

"I'm justified." 

No one speaks after that. Briefly, Maka stares at the back of his head and wonders if anyone at Eater's home would miss him when he doesn't arrive tonight, or the next few days while he's recovering. To fill the silence, she asks how his thigh feels.

"Hurts," he says, slightly defeated. 

"You can lay down in the spare bedroom, if you want.” She winces, wishing she was more prepared for guests. “It's actually the size of a closet, but that's all I have..."

"Thanks so much, seriously," he says, turning to smile softly at her, which she returns with a warmth one can only feel when helping someone in need. 

The rest of the day is quiet. _Where were you today?_ Maka asks in an email to Kilik and Blake, but she receives no reply from either until hours later. They were the ones who had given her the tip about TJ, so why wasn't the Space Patrol there? _Got held up at the casino, that place is so addicting,_ Kilik responded, which strikes Maka as odd. Vowing not to worry about it too much, she and Eater lounge around on the couch streaming oldie cartoons, talking about whatever comes to mind. 

“Do you think the Big Bang Theory is true?” Maka asks him when her laptop battery finally dies and she lacks both the energy and motivation to fetch her charger from her bedroom. 

“No, I think… I think, as ironic as it sounds… I think Lord Death created us.” Exhaustion must be is working on Eater too because he’s slumped against the armrest like a ragdoll, arms wrapped around himself. “He created us so he could end us. We were born to die.” 

Maka frowns at him in the dark reflection of the screen. “That’s a gloomy and sad outlook, Eater. Maybe he created us so we could live?”

“Maybe,” he allows, but his doubt is evident: he doesn’t agree. “Why do you think things and people have to die? I mean, so many animals on Earth went extinct after 2100…”

Soon enough, she discovers his favorite extinct animal is a shark, because - to put it in his words: “it was a kickass, scary-looking predator, and probably my long lost cousin.” He points to his sharp, straight teeth, grinning drowsily. “These can’t be human.”

“I bet they’re part of your weapon abilities somehow. Like, when you’re in a bind you can transform your teeth into little blades and chew yourself free.”

That earns her a big laugh, and she lowkey glows with pride. 

“I’ve never tried that. But, I can turn my fingertips into scythes so it looks like I have claws. That was a big hit at parties when I was a kid. Oh, and I can turn my whole body into a scythe, too.”

“No way!” 

"Yes way," he says, proving her wrong by transforming into a six foot long scythe with a red-eye etched into the tip. 

Maka's jaw is practically on the floor. "That is just so _cool_!" 

“It's super useful,” he disagrees sarcastically when he's back into his human body, relaxing even more into the couch. “I can barely fight on my own, but I manage with my arms or whatever. It was more useful when I was a kid. My mom would give me chores or something, I would hide in the broom closet upside down. When she came looking, she’d see my handle and think I was a broom. She’d get so mad cuz she couldn’t find me.”

The whole scenario is so adorable and innocent Maka can’t stop grinning. “Wow, what a rebel. If that’s the worst thing you’ve ever done, you’re definitely not as punk as you look.”

Feigning offense, Eater touches his chest. “And you’ve done worse?”

“Ran away for a whole day when I was six - no, really,” she insists, nudging him with her foot when he calls her a liar. “I did. I went to my friend Blake’s house and just stayed in his room until I decided I had punished my papa enough. He had made me mad because he ordered a pink cake for my birthday when I told him I wanted a _hot_ pink one.”

“You sound like a spoiled brat,” Eater scoffs, but not unkindly. The more Maka watches him, the more his sleepy smile and edgy, sarcastic presence endear him to her - it’s all a facade to hide a soft-hearted boy, isn’t it? After all, who pretends to be a _cleaning_ tool? 

“I wasn’t a brat. I was a princess and I needed to be treated as such.”

“Well, know that I’m in no way going to encourage your behavior.”

Maka scrunches her nose. “I would kick you out, but I’d feel bad turning away an injured stray.” 

“So you’re stuck with me, for now.” He pauses. “You’re so easy to talk to, you kinda remind me of my brother.” The twinkle in his eyes gives away to a distant sadness, one Maka can’t dwell on because he blinks so fast she begins to wonder if it was even there at all. “I mean, you nag me just like he did.”

The topic veers to school and how they have nothing in common: she’d been class valedictorian and in almost every after-school club while he had been all but threatened with a public spanking by his parents if he didn’t bring his failing grades up to passing. A comfortable silence eventually settles between them, and they stare at each other's reflections on Maka’s small, darkened laptop screen until her eyelids refuse to stay open. As inquisitive and excited as she is to have made a new friend, she needs about two days’ worth of sleep.

“I’m going to bed. You remember where the spare bedroom is, right?” she asks, pointing to the thin doorway to their left anyway. 

Eater thanks her for the thousandth time that day. “I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just don't smoke inside.” She wiggles her fingers in a wave despite being five feet from him. “Goodnight.”

"...I'll be gone soon anyway," he murmurs, but it's so quiet Maka isn't sure if she was meant to hear it. 


	3. it has needles

A week later, Eater still refuses to tell her his real name.

At first Maka is okay with it. He’s just some boy she teamed up with to bring her mama’s killer to justice, who also happens to have a record of saving her twice now. 

Whatever. 

But he steals food off her plate when Maka isn’t looking and then retorts that he’s allowed to do so because he’s the one who cooked it in the first place. To add insult to injury, he refuses to wash the dishes afterward and only dries them because, as he mocks, he can’t stand the streaks she leaves when she doesn't. 

_Ugh_. But as exasperating as he is, Maka can’t remember what it’s like not having him around. His only saving grace is that he never smokes inside her ship. Oh, and now that they’re roommates, she’s not as lonely as she used to be. But it's not like they've discussed it, or even signed a contract. Maka simply had kept offering him a place to sleep, and he kept accepting until she no longer had to voice the offer and he just…stayed. 

Maybe Maka could deal with not knowing his name if he wasn’t such a jerk about winning every board or card game they play when they’re trying to get their minds off apprehending Giriko or his healing thigh. She suspects Eater of cheating, and if he knew anything about her family history and shaky trust of her papa, he would know she _despises_ cheaters. 

“I need to know your name! Tell me!” she screeches at Eater, throwing her stack of cards at him after losing the seventh game of ‘Go Fish’. That’s seven times now he doesn’t have to reveal his name. All she needs to do is win _once_. It doesn’t help that neither her competitive nature nor ego can stand losing. 

Eater snorts at her, not in the least threatened by her practically jumping over the table at him, instead finding amusement in her frustration. “Nope. I already told you, it doesn’t matter.”

“It sure does! What if you’re some crazy stalker killer and that’s why you’re not telling me your name?”

He reaches for another fisful of gummy bears, rolling his eyes. “And what if I am?”

“Then I’m going to turn you in for the bounty.”

“And lose your partner for finding Giriko?” 

She pauses to think. “Okay, I’ll turn you in after we find him.”

He rolls his eyes again, this time slower. “Whatever. Let’s play 52 Card Pick, and you can go first since you made this mess.”

Somehow, he wins that game too. 

Maka Albarn _hates_ losing. 

X

Five days later, her cellphone emits a vaguely familiar chime. Maka, elbow-deep in soapy dishwater at the sink, frowns incoherently at it until it dawns on her that she has an incoming face call. 

“Oh! Can you answer it please?” She nods at Eater, standing oh-so-uselessly at her side with a drying towel. “My hands are all soapy and gross.”

Eater approaches the device apprehensively, ready to run for safety at the slightest inkling of danger. Distantly, Maka notes that this isn’t the first time Eater has acted like he’s unfamiliar with technology, but disregards it when he swipes to accept the call and Black Star’s face appears on the hologram emission. 

“Yooooooo! Maks, Maka Pork Chop, Sweetie-Pie of my Eye, _ANGEL_!” Her childhood friend ignores her array of increasingly angry expressions at his recitation of her Papa's nicknames for her and only interrupts himself when he notices Eater. “...Who’s this guy?”

Unimpressed with Black Star’s shenanigans, Eater turns to her, too. “Who’s _this_ guy? And where is his off button?”

“HEY! I killed a man once for less. I’ll do it again.”

“You did not, Star.” Maka rinses off and pats her arms dry. “It was a lifesize cut-out at the strip mall. You didn’t chop his head off.”

“But I could if I had to,” he grumbles, quickly recovering from the blow to his ego. “SO! He’s what you’ve been up to, Maks?”

Maka’s face burns up like a candle at the insinuation. “ _He_ is my new friend and partner in crime-fighting, Eater. Eater, this is Black Star, the neighbor kid from back home who took a dump on my papa’s dresser and then complained to him that the dresser wasn’t nailed to the wall when it tipped over with him on it. He’s also the bane of my existence and a dead man _walking_ if he doesn’t learn some respect!”

“I’m kind of jealous that he had a longer introduction than I did,” Eater mutters, pocketing his hands and fixing Black Star with a skeptical look. “So, you dye your hair blue or what?”

“No,” Black Star lies. “It’s like that because I’m a GOD.”

“... I really do have to sit down for this.” Eater turns the kitchen chair around and drags his hand down his face, as if in mental anguish. 

Maybe Maka was wrong - maybe she and Eater do have a few things in common, specifically exasperation at Black Star. She rubs her temples. “What do you want from me, Black Star?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to tell you that Sid died.” 

Pain erupts deep in her chest, like someone suddenly rammed a pole through her sternum. Suddenly, she regrets speaking to Black Star so roughly. She should be more gentle with the people she loves. “Sid?”

Finally betraying his real emotions, Black Star nods, his playful air muted. “Yep. Yesterday. Some crazy rando shanked him. That looney Space Force doc, Stein, says he can bring him back, but he also says Sid won’t be the same.”

The metal floor beneath her feet begins to rock and sway - or maybe it’s all in her head, a physical manifestation of her shock and grief. It feels like the world is caving in on itself. “I’m… so sorry, Star.”

“Yeah. But I’m not sad though! A God can’t weep for a soul that’s bound to be resurrected.”

The call goes on. Maka repeats that she’s sorry, sososososo sorry, and Black Star cheering the both of them on with bravado until they hang up. Eater’s respectful concern for her emotional wellbeing touches her, in a weird way. He lingers around her quietly while she finishes up a few chores until he dares to ask, “Who was Sid?”

“Black Star’s dad... The man who raised him when his real parents died.”

“Ohhh,” Eater sighs, long and slow. He doesn't say anything for the rest of the evening. For once, Maka doesn't mind.

x

Three weeks after their first run-in with Giriko and their second run-in with the Thompson sisters, Maka and Eater head out to Mars. Besides running low on supplies, it wouldn’t hurt to delve into civilization again, especially if they want to track down leads on Giriko’s location. 

“...Hate flying anywhere near the Asteroid Belt,” Eater mumbles beside her, munching on cheese crackers and watching Space go by as if he hasn’t seen it before. The darkness before them is only dotted by distant stars and space colonies that pale in comparison to the size of the planets orbiting the sun. “It’s like tempting one of them to hit the ship and put us out of commission. I always get nervous coming by here.”

From her seat behind the wheel, Maka side-eyes him. “Really? I’ve never really thought of it like that… I’ve always had to cross through here. Everyone has to. It’s as normal as walking.” She rolls her lips between her teeth, thinking he’s let something important about himself slip, but not sure _what_ or how to take it. “Haven’t you always had to cross the Asteroid Belt to get to the other colonies beyond Mars?”

Eater takes measured breaths, pausing before saying, “Yeah, but it’s just always nerve-wracking for me. Guess I’m weird like that.”

“How did you get around before? I mean… before you met me.”

He shrugs. “Hitch-hicking, remember? Or stowing away on a spacetrain, you know. It’s actually not that bad.”

Maka is quiet. She admires the way his hair soaks up the blue glow of the screens. “Where would you sleep?”

“Anywhere, really. A bench somewhere, or anywhere away from people.”

 _Anywhere?_ Maka echoes in her mind. _But, the universe is so big… so lonely._ “Even in the cold?”

Perhaps the sympathetic softness in her voice startles him, because he turns to look at her. Half of his face illuminated by the control panel, Maka finds that he’s kind of handsome in this light. Why hadn’t she noticed before? “It’s okay. I don’t get cold easy. It wasn’t too bad. And I wasn’t out there too long… I, uh, lived at home up until a year ago. Then I decided I had to get out and live my own life.” 

She can’t help but feel bad for him. “At least you have me now. You don’t have to sleep out there by yourself anymore because you sleep at the hangar with me!” And then her cheeks flood with red. “I mean, you know, because we’re roommates... unless you make me kick you out.”

Eater stares at her, and Maka can’t read his expression. But then he gifts her a small smile that makes her heart flip. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

When she catches herself lingering on the curve of his lips longer than appropriate, she looks the other way.

X

Their honeymoon phase ends with a literal jolt while they’re flying toward Jupiter. 

Thinking of her partnership with Eater in that light lights a fire on Maka’s cheeks, but there is no time to peel back the layers of _why_ , not when the initial shock wears off and she realizes her ship was the target of a direct hit. Panic swells in her chest. In the passenger seat beside her, Eater strains to catch a glimpse of their attacker - and then a sleek black ship zooms past them, its tinted windows masking its pilot. 

Eater growls underneath his breath. Next thing Maka knows, he's plopped himself in her lap trying to shove her out of the way and commandeer the controls. "We're chasing after them."

"No!" Maka struggles to straighten out her thoughts beneath his weight, his gloved hands pushing her face away. "Normally I'd be the first person to go after them but, but - it's _dangerous_! Remember what happened to your thigh? We have to think things through before we do anything!" 

She doesn't tell him that her stomach twists into knits every time she thinks of stitching his flesh back together. Hopelessness spirals deep within her at the thought of Eater getting hurt again. She would rather not relive any part of that bloody, exhausting aftermath. 

"We're _going_ ," he insists through gritted teeth.

Maka manages to shimmy out of her seat, steadying herself against the wall. Judging by his jerky maneuvering and unfamiliarity with the controls, he’s a novice at piloting. That would be putting it mildly - the ship jerks enough times to finally knock her to her knees. 

"Eater! Let it go… We're going to crash into something!" 

Her pleas fall on deaf ears as he fumbles with buttons. "How do I shoot at them? Wait, do you have lasers or actual bullets?" 

Stunned, Maka refuses to answer. Reality sinks in slowly: this black ship attacked them out of nowhere, without cause, and didn’t stop to check on their welfare or even apologize. The situation reeks too much of a deliberate hit. On top of this, a hint of smoke stings her nostrils as she watches the spaceship speed out of sight in front of them, the distant stars only specks in the blackness around them. 

Then she explodes. 

"Excuse me?! This is _my_ ship, _I'm_ the captain here, and we have no idea if this guy has backup or anything coming! Just drop it. _And_ we shouldn't do anything until after we inspect the damage. We could blow up at any second!" 

Her reasoning strikes a chord with Eater. His vengeful resolve wears away, and remorse pulls at the corners of his lips. 

"You’re right," he mumbles, looking ashamed. “I’m sorry…”

"Don't be." She meets his honesty with gentleness. "We need to be careful. Okay? I don't want you to get hurt again."

X

Eater jumps out of the ship as soon as they land on Jupiter's base, hands delving deep into his pants pockets for cigarettes. Maka vaguely thinks he needs a better coping mechanism before flagging down a familiar coffee-addicted spaceship mechanic, grateful for the safety of steel flooring beneath her boots. 

The Jupiter Colony is the biggest in the Solar System. It wraps around the swirly red and orange planet’s equator like a metal ring. Walking the distance would take more years than the average human lifespan allows, an issue a high-speed bullet train solves without a hitch. Between sections of housing, hospitals, shopping centers, storage centers for supplies, and shuttle stations, the people moving to the space colony lack little besides the beauty of greenery and, for that matter, other nonhuman lifeforms. Being the only life in the universe after almost completely destroying their only true planet Earth comes with hefty consequences.

“S’not bad,” Joe Buttataki informs Maka after his inspection of her aircraft. The last time she saw him, he’d supplied five hundred artificially grown sunflowers for her mama’s funeral. Now he’s wearing a mechanic uniform instead of a Space Force uniform, wiping black grease from his hands with an already dirty towel. “It’s basically cosmetic damage. The real question is, did this person not aim to take you out on purpose, or are they a lousy shot?” He pauses, reaching for another towel. “Are you going to report it?”

Maka would rather go down with her ship than go to the Space Force for help, but she keeps that commentary to herself. “No, and don’t you dare tell my papa, either.”

Joe agrees, but the concern etches itself in his forehead wrinkles. “How’s Spirit holding up? I haven’t seen him in months.”

“As good as it’s going to get, probably.” Her throat swells. Ah, her papa is still a painful topic apparently. Maybe time away from him won’t ever heal her wounds. “How are things with you? Have you and Marie picked a wedding date yet?”

“We broke up. I decided…” The man needlessly rearranges the tools on the table. “I left the force, after your mom…what happened to her made me look at life differently. It made me want to protect the people I love, and that meant distancing myself. I didn’t want to put Marie in danger.” Hiccuping, he turns away to wipe at his cheeks.

Ship inspection: check. Catching up with her papa’s old friend from the Inter-Solar Space Force: check. Putting her foot in her mouth and making people cry at their jobs: check. 

“It had to happen. Don’t worry about me,” he continues, obviously picking up on her discomfort. “I’ll patch up your ship, but…”

Maka braces herself for the usual lecture about the dangers of bounty hunting, returning to the training academy, and reconnecting with her papa, but it doesn’t come. What Joe does advise is stocking up on weapons, food, first aid kits, emergency supplies, and forming allies with other bounty hunters. She doesn't mention Eater to Joe, wanting to keep him hidden away from anyone she knows for now, like her secret...and also because she doesn’t want any else teasing her for having a ‘boyfriend’. 

Later, she finds Eater waiting for her at a table in front of a pizza joint, chin in palm, completely mesmerized by the view of Jupiter. The millenia-old eye-shaped storm rages angrily, its deep red core a swirl of hellish winds, the surrounding cloud clusters spinning in opposite directions. The fine, light orange waves on the periphery seem to keep the storm contained, away from the nearby white, stringy clouds. 

“How is Cupcake?” he asks, using her nickname for her ship, the exact one he had teased her mercilessly when he heard her talking to it one day when it wouldn’t start.

“It’ll live, but the whole ordeal makes me feel… icky.” Maka explains her meeting with Joe, only stopping when the waiter emerges and asks for their order.

“It was probably Patti and Liz,” Eater mumbles, unimpressed. "I'm not too excited to run into them again. Liz kicks hard, and she apparently holds grudges."

"No, I don't think it was them. They have a pink ship, remember from the gas station holdup? This one was newer and more... advanced."

"Maybe that lady Arachne gave them a new one."

Maka buries the heel of her palms into her eyes until they hurt, but no new ideas or solutions come to her. The more they discuss the what-ifs, the more they talk in circles. When the pizza arrives, Maka barely moves, preferring to listen to Eater complaining about the broken Icee machine rather than eating. It's only when a new set of footsteps arrive and she hears the chair moving that she opens her eyes. 

"Clay!" Maka gasps, thrown off kilter to see the Meister standing before her in the flesh. "What are you doing here?"

“Stopped for fuel.” Bright, blue-eyed, easygoing Clay Sizemore grins at her, as if his life as a CIA agent for the New Lord Death's inner circle is the most relaxing job in the universe. “I’m surprised to see you, too, but then again, Kid did say you might be here.”

She blinks. “Kid?”

“Our New Lord Death, in all of his all-knowing wisdom, probably knew you would be here before you did,” Eater explains around his glass of water, sarcasm at its highest. "He used to go by Kid before Lord Death died."

Clay nods, grin widening as if choosing to ignore the insult against his lord. “Kid is wise for his young age, yes. He even instructed me to pass along a message to you if we ran into each other."

Maka points to herself. "Me?" 

"Yes. He says…” Clay lapses into silence, scratching at his chin in an effort to retrieve the message verbatim. “'I imagine I don’t have to tell you this, but if you aren’t listening to your heart... keep him close'.” 

Maka’s gaze instinctively flickers over to Eater, who's already staring intently at her. He shifts, rubbing the back of his neck as if embarrassed, and refuses to look back at her again. She blinks, wondering why before the thought slips away and she's focused on the message again. “But… what does that mean? Who is ‘he’? Does he mean my papa?”

“Our New Lord said you would already know what he means.”

“Sounds like a mind-reading, cryptic wannabe,” Eater grumbles, biting off a new slice of pizza with more aggression than necessary. “Why didn’t he come to tell her himself?”

Clay folds his hands on the table patiently. “There is a serial killer amongst our people. Venturing outside would put Our New Lord in great danger, and losing him would be a loss to humanity. He’s the only remaining heir of Death.”

“Whatever.”

Frowning, Maka lets her stomach grumbling ebb until she's numbed by overthinking. "Thanks Clay. I'll think it over."

The agent stands up and excuses himself. "I'll be off to meet up with Akane, but it was good seeing you again, Maka."

"What an idiot," Eater says as soon as Clay is out of earshot. "Death's mindless puppet. _Gross_. I'd rather sit on a cactus."

Maka laughs at that, thankful for Eater's ruthless but silly commentary. "You really don't like Lord Death, huh? And… what's a cactus?"

"Yep. Death the Kid is such a dramatic, annoying brat. And -- _wait_ , you don't know what a cactus is?" Taking her blank expression as an answer, he lurches forward, knocking over his marinara dipping sauce. "Serious?"

"Serious. No clue."

"It's like, you know… Like this plant that only grows in hot places on Earth. It has needles. They prick and they hurt. Uh, um - that's what all the nature books about ancient Earth said anyway. Didn't you take those types of classes at school too?" 

Still contemplating the New Lord Death’s message, Maka reaches for a pizza slice. Why let good food go to waste? "I think so, but that was a while ago. Looks like I have some reading to do."

Eater grins. “Nerd.”

For the next hour, Maka nibbles thoughtfully on pepperoni, stealing glances at Eater admiring Jupiter. He's cute, with his floofy hair and charming dimple, though she can barely, begrudgingly admit this to herself. If only she could read him like she could read a book. She squints at him, wishing she could figure out his name by studying him long enough. 

And anyway… No way she’ll allow herself to have anything close to a crush on someone called Eater. How is she going to ever confess she thinks about him a little too much even when he's around? Is she supposed to say, "oh, Eater, you have my whole heart?" Nah! She's a practical girl. She needs a name before she even _thinks_ about acknowledging this minuscule… "crush," if that is even what it is. 

After all, she doesn’t know him too well. Yes, he has a nice smile, an endearing penchant for humming melodies under his breath when he thinks she's not listening, and loves to empty half a bottle of hot sauce on everything he eats, but she also knows that he has nightmares sometimes, awful ones that make him cry in his sleep. He has no idea that she can hear him, so she can't directly ask, and even if she did, would he answer honestly or throw a sarcastic remark instead? Sometimes it's like he holds her at a distance, revealing safe details or tidbits about his family or life before bounty hunting. 

But then again, she hasn't revealed everything about herself either. Like her mama’s death...

And, while she's searching for any, _every_ reason not to let herself like Eater in _that_ way, she just simply doesn't have time for a crush, not when she's on this gory journey for justice. 

It's not a crush anyway, just a strong affinity towards him. 

“I should go visit my papa,” she declares aloud, tired of thinking about Eater. “I bet the New Lord Death means he wants me to check on him.”

Eater rolls his eyes, lashes fluttering, but he’s too struck by Jupiter's red storm to notice he's the subject of someone's fascination too. “Too bad he couldn’t just email you and tell you that.”

"You really don't like him, do you?" 

This time, he doesn’t evade the question. "Not in the slightest. If he ever answers my questions about the dead, maybe I'll reconsider."

Now _there's_ an idea. 

Only the heir of Death can answer her prayers. 

Maka bites her lip to keep herself from crying out for her mama. 

_Where do souls go when they die?_


	4. then call me that more often

Casa Albarn sits undisturbed when they arrive, throw pillows and blankets strewn across the couch cushions as if someone had gotten up only seconds before. However, Maka knows all too well that person is long gone from this universe. After fumbling for the light switch, she leads Eater into the kitchen, resisting the urge to organize things her mama had put down with the intention of rearranging later. 

"Hi Papa. It's me," Maka calls, then sticks her head in the fridge to fetch herself and Eater a drink. "I brought a friend."

Footsteps race toward them. Her papa is like an overexcited, overgrown toddler, practically tackling her to the floor in his eagerness to pull her into a hug. She's no longer conditioned to flinch at his touch - the endless days of huddling together for dear life after her mama's death erased that habit - so she relaxes into him, giving his shoulder a squeeze before pulling away and searching his eyes.

"So…you're doing okay? Tell me the truth, Papa, are you okay?”

“Of course!” The hint of brightness in his smile convinces Maka of it, too. It’s so unbelievable to her that she almost doesn’t hear him describe his day to day routine. “I wake up, make breakfast, and even go for a walk outside now! Then I come back and dust and watch TV and then Black Star calls me-”

Maka gapes. “ _Black Star_?”

“Yep! Ever since Sid died, you know…” Papa starts whispering, as if not wanting Black Star, who’s probably on a training base halfway across the planet, to hear. “He took a mourning leave from the academy and hung out with me here. We even went to the casino! And ever since then he calls me everyday and we have lunch together over the hologram. Kilik joins us sometimes too, if he’s not busy.”

Guilt blooms in the pit of her stomach. Maybe she should have offered Black Star a place to crash after he had told her the news of Sid’s passing. Why hadn’t she been more considerate and offered to share in their grief? She had lost a parent too, and at one point she had thought she lost her papa in the aftermath of losing her mama. “Did Stein bring Sid back?”

“No,” her papa sighs, face grim. “Black Star decided not to go through with it. He said only gods could bring people back. Said he’d try to do it himself eventually.”

Hmm… Only a god possesses the power to bring someone back from the dead, huh? Is it possible that Black Star’s delusions could hold a grain of truth? Thoughts connect distantly in her head, and Eater’s distrust of the New Lord Death drifts to the forefront. 

“Oh! That’s right, I wanted you to meet someone.” Reinvigorated by the seed of an idea, Maka leads her papa by the wrist to the living room where Eater had wandered away to give them privacy. Now, he manages to somehow both fit in and look misplaced in her childhood home."

“Papa, this is Eater. Eater, this is my papa, Spirit Albarn.”

Eater sticks his hand out politely - he’s well mannered, Maka has noted before - but it must be in the Albarn blood to reject handshakes. Scowling suspiciously, Papa looks Eater up and down, apparently not impressed with his grey-washed ripped jeans and dark blue bomber jacket. 

“What are your intentions with my daughter?”

Maka’s heart jumps to her throat, enraged and humiliated. “Papa! Not like that! What I mean is, we bounty hunt together!”

Papa blows air through his nose at Eater. “How many criminals have you caught?”

Again, Maka answers before her partner, holding up her hand to silence him. “None. But we’re only really after Giriko.”

Finally, her papa settles down, deflated. “So, what Kid told me _was_ true. You know her killer’s name now, huh?”

Something like a match lights up within Maka, who seethes. “What! You’ve known all along?”

Defeated, her papa covers his face with a hand, like his head hurts. “I couldn’t tell you a lot of things, Angel. Special privilege of being our Lord Death’s Weapon… It’s not like the information helped me in any way…”

“You _knew_ who killed my mama but you didn’t _tell me_?” Hands balled into fists, a rational part of her brain begs her not to start swinging at her only remaining family member. “I’ve been searching for Giriko for months now, and you didn’t bother to tell me his name?!”

“I don’t want you to find him, Maka.” Her papa pulls that face he always wore when he was caught with another woman that wasn’t her mama: sheepishly guilty, with a healthy hint of fear. “He’s dangerous, and I don’t want to lose you too.”

A cross between a growl and a shriek escapes between her clenched teeth. Today has been emotionally exhausting, and she tells her papa he’s lucky Eater is here because she doesn’t want to look bad in front of her partner. And honestly, how can she stay mad at her papa for trying to protect her?

Speaking of Eater, he's wandered away again, probably to avoid her family drama. Papa catches him lighting a cigarette while looking at the family pictures on the wall and shoots him a dirty look. "Don't smoke in my house!"

Eater huffs defiantly, pausing as if debating if he should heed the warning before actually putting his lighter away. "Like father, like daughter." 

Papa’s head snaps to Maka. “What does that mean?”

Maka decides not to explain to her papa that Eater lives with her - it’s a long story, one that could be misconstrued easily by someone who automatically assumed ‘partner’ meant ‘boyfriend’. Whatever. She shrugs at her papa in response, who has already forgotten his question and is now instead rushing over to the display case where Eater is holding up a cat figurine.

"Put that down! Don't touch it, your hands are dirty and strange!" 

"My hands are clean and normal, thanks!" 

Papa whirls to fix Maka with a pleading look. “I don’t like him. He’s disrespectful and doesn’t know what boundaries are.”

Before Maka opens her mouth, Eater wedges in a remark: “You mean like you?”

“Like me? What do you mean, _like me_?” Red colors Papa’s face like an angry sunburn. “Are you talking about the fact that I had a lot of lady friends while I was married to my wife and that I didn’t deserve her? Or are you talking about the fact that I failed to protect our Lord Death?”

“No,” Eater says firmly, pointing at himself, “I mean that you’re disrespecting _me_ currently, your daughter’s friend, and I haven’t given you any reason for it. I didn’t know any of your business before you just told me.”

“Papa, you owe him an apology,” Maka says gently to break the thick cloud of tension in the air, going over to pat his back. 

Her papa mutters a crabby, halfhearted “ _sorry”_ before offering to brew coffee or steep tea. When the three of them sit around the table, Papa ‘forgets’ to offer Eater a cup and then proceeds to claim he didn’t know the kettle was still hot when he tried to pass it (read: throw) to Eater. Maka bites her tongue and watches Eater endure the abuse with tight lips. And no, she’s not staring at his lips. This time it’s his grace that draws her in as Papa bombards him with questions: “What drugs were your parents on that they named you Eater? What’s your real name? Do you think my Maka is cute? Isn’t she the best? You better consider yourself extremely lucky to be her partner.” 

Eater brushes off the questions, but Maka does notice pink dust his cheeks. 

The interrogation eventually takes a dark turn. Her papa folds his hands on the table and leans forward, giving Eater a condescending smile. "Why are you taking my daughter along on this suicide mission?" 

This time, Eater is the one holding up his hand to hush Maka. "It may end up a suicide mission for me, but not for her. I won't let anything happen to her. I'd put my life on the line-" 

Sirens go off in Maka’s head. No one hears her exclaim, “Eater, no! We’ll both come out of this alive!”

"That's all nice and dandy until it becomes reality and your partner dies," her papa snaps at Eater, pursing his lips. "You're irresponsible for encouraging her."

Eater shrugs in a what-can-I-do sort of way. "Maka does what she wants. And I also have my reasons for tracking down Giriko."

"I guess you need the cash," her papa mutters, giving him a derisive once-over.

"Papa, I said stop," Maka interrupts, holding up two fingers. "That's strike two."

Papa does stop…for a whole minute. Then he finds Eater's other flaws. “I don’t like your hair,” he goes on, tugging on Eater’s white locks. “Is this a wig?”

Childish. That’s what Papa is. Well, two can play at that game. Maka pouts and sticks her nose in the air. "That's strike three. I'm leaving, Papa."

The tactic works. Her papa immediately forgets about insulting and provoking Eater and follows her like a shadow to the front door, desperate to get her attention before she steps out. “Why? You just got here, and we were having such a pleasant conversation. Why do you have to leave?”

Maka stops dead in her tracks, unsure if she should laugh at her silly, delusional papa or chastise him for trying to skew her perception of his attitude toward Eater. "I’m leaving because _someone_ in this house is bullying my partner."

Papa shakes his head. "No, Angel, no one else is here besides me."

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Maka rubs her temples, praying for patience. "You missed my point, but I don't think you’d understand it anyway." 

“Exactly! So you’ll stay for a while?”

“...Yes, but you have to be nice to him, Papa, he’s my friend. We protect each other.”

That gains her papa’s approval. He perks up, as if suddenly viewing her partnership with Eater as a blessing. “He looks after you? He wasn't lying about that part?”

“ _Yes_ , Papa. He saved me from getting my butt kicked twice now... But don’t tell him I said that.”

“I guess he can’t be that bad…” He coughs, wringing his hand nervously. “You know, Angel, my sweetest Maka… Our New Lord Death heard about your run in with Giriko. He said he’d like to meet you.”

“No,” she snaps instantly, arms crossed. “Never. I refuse.”

"Catching criminals would be safer under our New Lord's direction."

"No."

Contemplative, her papa guides her back to the table by the shoulder and fixes Eater’s hair, apologizing a little too happily and offering him another cup of coffee. Eater throws Maka a perplexed look, but accepts, swirling his spoon around in the cooling liquid disinterestedly when her papa domineers the conversation and talks about all the things he ordered from the internet. Around nine, after a hearty meatball and spaghetti dinner that her papa cooked up, Maka announces that it’s time to go. Papa sees them off at the door, slapping Eater on the back a little too hard and hugging Maka a little too long. 

“Will you come back to visit, my sweet angel?”

"Only because I love you,” she repeats, grateful that it’s not difficult to admit any more. 

Back on the ship, Eater aims a mischievous smirk at Maka while she starts up the engine. "'Sweetie? Honey pie? _Angel?'"_

She flattens her hand and brings it down vertically into her other palm. "Shut it. Or you'll get the chop."

"Better than 'baby' I guess. Only I call you baby."

Tongue-tied, Maka doesn't deny it or complain that he only called her baby once, when they first met. What she wants to reply is, “Then call me that more often,” but she’s not brave enough to face the consequences of saying something that boldly flirtatious. 

Thankfully, Eater drops the subject and switches to commenting on her papa’s weird personality and general eccentricities. "Your dad is obsessed with me though. Why did he clean my hands when he wiped the table?"

“Because he’s a jerk,” she snaps, the two blinking at each other before bursting into laughter. “He’s harmless, I promise, he just gets overprotective of me and loves being a pain in my kidneys.”

Eater’s grin is wide, genuine - Maka’s favorite kind. But then it fades into a worried frown. "You looked disappointed that we didn't find him in the middle of a crisis, though. I mean, more than usual, I presume."

“Yeah, kind of…” Maka gnaws at her lip, the taste of iron not giving her pause. “I thought he was in danger, because of the New Lord’s message… but he seemed fine. Better than usual, actually.”

Curiosity looks cute on Eater as he struggles to frame his next question, so she lets him wrestle with the words until they’re right. “So, uhh… all that stuff your dad said. Was it...”

“Was it true? Did he cheat on my mom with anything and everything that looked his way?” Fury rises to her brain, frying her rationality. “Did Lord Death die under his watch?” She pauses for dramatic effect. “Of course it’s all true!”

Eater’s lips form a perfect ‘o’ of surprise. Maka can’t help but want to pull him closer and bite it until he’s moaning and making other shapes with his mouth. Denial gives her the strength to resist the feral desire, leaving her with doubt. Did she want to kiss Eater for the distraction from feeling things she’s been running away from, or because she’s been faintly interested by the thought and only now realized it because she’s in a vulnerable spot?

Either way, she shouldn’t do it, and she lets the thought die. He’s her partner. That fleeting desire was the result of her emotions taking over and wanting to cling onto someone who cares and has been there consistently. She needs to control herself. 

“Everyone in the universe knows about my papa…why don’t you?”

“I don’t listen to gossip, or care much about it,” he replies softly. “Are you okay? You look… not okay.”

Tears well in her eyes. _Lord_ , she’s a mess. Should she tell him that she’s confused about _him_ , or that she’s devastated because she misses her mama?

Somehow, talking about the dead seems less scary. 

“I miss her, Eater. She was my whole universe… and I didn’t even get to say goodbye.” 

If only there were a way to talk about this without it hurting. Maka isn’t brave enough to let the memories back in, but she trusts Eater and wants to share her loss. Not sure what to do with her hands, she plays with the hem of her skirt, folding it, twisting it, stretching it out...

“She was on the Space Force, you know. The Chief,” she starts. Of course, life was great until after Lord Death died and crime rates skyrocketed - vandalism, robberies, kidnappings, murders. Bodies piling up in the streets like dirty laundry. Her mama had practically moved into her office at the Space Force headquarters trying to keep the universe from falling apart. Not that it had helped. The Inter-Solar Space Force had fallen more and more behind, until it was impossible to catch up. 

Eater shifts, swallowing loudly, thickly. Empathically. It aches to see her grief affecting someone else - is it that contagious? 

“My mama called to check in on me and Papa every hour," she continues, gaze trailing across the controls. "But we never saw her again."

“At least her death brought me and Papa together.” Even now it’s difficult grasping for a silver lining. The reality had been much more horrible. She and her papa had clung to each other the way Maka had missed as a child, but this time sobbing, shaking, inconsolable. They were together but felt so _alone_. Hope had been ripped from them like skin off bones, the same way remembering does to her now.

At least she’s done reliving it. That’s the end. Her mama is gone, and Maka can’t bring her back.

No longer able to bear talking about her mama, Maka takes off, flying her spacecraft faster than normal. It’s not until they’re miles from Mars that she realizes they don’t exactly have a destination in mind. Should they go to the hangar? She becomes conscious of tears streaming down her cheeks and someone gently touching her shoulder. Even through the leather gloves, his touch his warm, and she briefly wonders what actually touching skin-to-skin would feel like. 

“Switch with me,” Eater says kindly. “I’ll drive for a bit.”

“Just don’t crash, okay?” She tries to make it sound like a joke, but it comes out painfully.

He pretends to shoot a gun at her with his hand, winking. “Trust me. Now rest up, space cowgirl.”

Later, she decides as she reclines the passenger seat, she’ll have to hug him as thanks for being here for her.


	5. I had a vision

Days go by, and she and Eater stick side-by-side. Weeks turn into a month. Then, all of a sudden two months have sped by. Their first successful bounty capture awards them enough money to buy groceries through the end of the year. Not that Maka is in this business for financial gain, but the extra cash definitely steeves off worrying about the certainty of their next meal. Now they have food on the table, and Free, the Wolf Man with the Demon Eye, isn’t roaming Space and gouging out eyes as he pleases anymore. 

But it doesn’t seem to bring Eater any peace.

“What do you think he meant when he told us we have no future?” he keeps asking her. Tonight, his questions are no different. She and Eater are pouring over news articles about violent crimes within the last five years, plotting out the offense rate over time on graph paper. “Do you think he meant just me, or just you? Or both?”

“Eater, don’t worry, okay?" Maka scratches her head, mentally counting the dots she placed. "I said I won’t let anything bad happen to you. And I believe you when you say you won’t let anything happen to me. We’ll be fine as long as we stick together.”

Still, Eater groans unhappily, slouching over with his face in his hands. Maka wishes she could comfort him somehow - he'd taken Free's words as a matter of prophecy, while she is sure the wolfman said it to torment them. However, saying so hasn't soothed Eater either, who keeps repeating that he's ready to die, but not if it means leaving Maka vulnerable to peril, too. 

"Don't exaggerate, Drama Queen," she teases, fighting the urge to run her fingers through his hair to calm him down. "Look at what I found out…"

It’s no surprise that crime has been on the rise, especially leading up to the Original Lord Death’s passing and Asura’s capture. What does bother Maka is that the murder rate hasn’t decreased since. In fact, more and more perfectly normal people have broken down in some sort of deranged fit, committing atrocities outside of their character. It's as though the madness Asura aimed to spread while he was alive somehow gained strength after his death. 

"The universe is rotting," Eater bemoans, brows furrowing. 

"You don't have to carry the weight of the universe on your back, Eater. I think we're onto something. What if… What if Asura somehow managed to survive, and he's still out there?"

Eater swallows thickly, shaking his head. "I don't think so…"

The two look at each other, the gravity and implications of the situation weighing heavy on their minds. 

"Asura killed Lord Death, you know…" Tapping his against the table mindlessly, Eater's unfocused gaze falls to her handmade graph. "He wanted to be the Heir and spread madness throughout the universe. But he didn't know that Lord Death had set up countermeasures so that only Kid could be his heir. The Force got him anyway, but…I feel like he also had a system rigged so his madness would spread even after he died. He probably knew he wouldn't last long after killing Lord Death."

"So, you're saying he has people doing his bidding," Maka sums up, cold goosebumps popping up all over her arms. 

"Yep. And it makes sense…" Eater shifts in his chair, breaking some of the tension in the air. "You mentioned, months ago, that Giriko seems to be getting more deranged. This has to be why. He's brainwashed with madness, or something."

"And that must be the group Liz and Patti joined!" Maka slams her fists on the table. "Eater, you're _brilliant_! It all makes sense!" 

"I guess, but I don't like the idea of taking down a whole terrorist group by ourselves. We don't know how many there are, who's in it, how fast they're recruiting…"

"Maybe I'll ask Black Star and Kilik if they have any information." Guilt blooms in Maka's stomach at the realization that she hasn't successfully returned any of their emails or calls. They keep missing each other, and she misses them. Maybe when they get leave time she'll invite them over to catch up and meet Eater. 

"I doubt they'd have any details. Usually only the leaders know what's going on… Like Kid. Probably only Kid."

Maka tries her chances. "Why don't you like him, Eater? Do you know him personally?"

"It might sound like a crazy conspiracy theory, but Death _has_ to know what’s going on behind all of these normal people snapping and committing murders.” Eater rubs his eyes, grunting. “He probably knows how to stop it, too. But he has this…neutrality stance, and it bothers me that he's letting people die."

Words threaten to spill from her mouth, so she pauses, choosing her words carefully. Obviously, Eater has strong opinions, and she doesn't want to spark a serious argument that may hurt his feelings. Not that they don't argue all the time, because they do - about chores, about how he let the curry burn not once but four times in one single attempt, about his tendencies to go overboard during a chase with a wanted criminal and gets injured carelessly. But this conversation? This runs deeper than banter or petty disagreements. 

"Eater, I'm not challenging you…” Letting out a long breath to remain calm because she can’t read his expression, she goes on, “Just have questions. Hear me out first. Lord Death is the head of the Space Force. Right?" She waits for him to nod. "So that means he's directly influencing and interfering with the fate of the universe, if that's what we can call it for now. He can’t be completely neutral if he’s on our side, the good side.”

“I get where you’re coming from Maka, but look…” he leans forward across the table, so close she can see specks of red in his brown irises. “He’s not human like us. He’s literally the God of Death… technically, he’s still in training because the Original Lord Death’s kicked the bucket before he could teach Kid everything, so I’m sure there are things he doesn’t know how to do yet, but if you ever met him you’d know that he’s a stickler for balance and perfection, even if it means letting the bad guys win sometimes. In fact, they have to get away and win, to keep the balance and stuff.”

Maka is so thrown off that she bursts into a coughing fit. Part of her vehemently wants to believe it isn’t true. After all, Lord Death saved humanity from perishing after they destroyed their own Earth by giving them a second chance at life in Space. But then again, he also sentenced them to lives in perpetual darkness. And there’s her mama - her death _could_ have been prevented if only her distress transmission signal hadn’t cut off, hindering backup to show up in time. And to add fuel to Eater’s theory, it’s always been a known fact that Lord Death knows all the whereabouts of every officer who works for Him…

In a way, she’s always suspected the New Lord Death of inaction in the back of her mind, but paid no attention to it. 

Now, with Eater stirring up those dark thoughts, she wants to crumple to the floor in a hopeless heap because what if everything really _is_ just a game for Death?

“So, I don’t trust him one bit. Not him, and not his dad.” Eater almost moves a hand on top of hers, but he flinches away at the last second and plops back down in his seat heavily. “I don’t even believe if the Original Lord Death is even dead.”

“But you do believe he and his Heir are all-knowing."

Eater nods regretfully. 

He's probably right, Maka realizes when the two fall into silence and work their way into the reports, occasionally sharing their findings like, one convicted mass murderer - a stay at home mom who went berserk and stabbed multiple people at a check out lane on Mars - had two unknown bite marks on her ankles. The follow up reports don't mention them again, but does mention that her eight-year-old daughter went missing, too. 

"I have a bad feeling Arachne is behind all this," Eater says, showing Maka another article dated a week ago about a elderly man executing his fellow nursing home residents, completely unprovoked. "I mean, she recruited Liz and Patti because she liked that they were about to kill you. It's awful. She gives me creepy vibes."

Fear threatens to paralyze Maka - What if she falls victim to this madness and hurts someone? What if Eater does? How does this so-called madness spread, anyway? Is it a sign of humanity's downfall, written in their fate by Death himself, or if this is a divergence from His will, if he even has one? 

_Ugh_. It makes Maka's head throb. 

"I'm tired of this," she declares, standing up. "We need a break. Let's go to Jupiter and get some pizza. That sounds fun right? We need to refill our water reservoir anyway. Maybe we can find you an Icee."

“Okay, you got me. I’m down.”

Patting his tummy in agreement, Eater piles the articles into a neat stack, completely endearing him even more to Maka. For some inexplicable reason, she lights up when she notices him going out of his way to do things just the way she likes them, as he's doing now. The Eater that moved in with her all those months ago would have left her table in total chaos - not to irritate her purposely, of course, but because he didn’t know. And now look at him… She didn't even have to get onto him. 

Small gestures like these make her heart swell. It explains why she can’t help but tell him, “Great. It’s a date, then.”

Heat immediately consumes her whole face. If she dared to peak into a mirror, she’d probably be redder than the fire on the Sun’s surface. Not brave enough to look into his face, she watches his hands slowing to a stop as he processes her words.

“Oh,” she hears him sputter, “uhm - uh, yeah - yes, I meeeean, if you want. Okay... Sounds cool.”

She turns on her heel and runs into her room, resting against her closed door. _Ughhhh_. Why is she so embarrassing? She doesn’t even like him like that, nope, nope, not at all, no, no, no. Probably confusing friendship and partnership for unattainable and unrealistic romantic, domestic fantasies. Yep, that’s it. Still, she can redeem herself. She’ll march out there all cool and confident and pretend the Freudian slip didn’t happen. 

Nothing weird happens when she emerges from her room, except that Eater has this shocked look on his face like he can’t believe she’s real. But then he grins at her, the rare type that really shows off his dimple and reaches his eyes. Maka’s favorite. 

“You should smile more often,” she says, chastising herself for digging herself into a deeper hole. She's still unable to meet his eyes as they step into the hangar proper and she unlocks the ship for them to climb inside.

“I don’t like being told what to do,” is his smooth reply as he buckles his seatbelt. “But maybe I‘ll consider it, just for you.”

“I feel so special.” It’s meant to be sarcastic, but she’s afraid it comes off as what it actually is: sincere. To top off the self betrayal, she grins back at him. 

Thank goodness that taking off is an entirely nerve wracking ordeal, no matter how many times she's done it. The ship shakes and rattles and blasts off into the nothingness of Space, preventing them having a proper conversation. When they’re settled into a non-turbulent ride, Maka puts the gears into autopilot and turns to face Eater. The glow of the control panel washes his face in a blue ethereal glow that she’s grown overly fond of.

“Eater,” she whispers. “What’s your name?”

He breathes in sharply, finally tearing his gaze away from the monitor. “Maka, it’s… complicated.”

“Your name is complicated?”

In this light, his eyes look black. “Kind of. It’s… not a common name, but _is_ a common name, all at once.”

“I want to know.” She hates how her request sounds a lot like begging. 

Eater bites his lip. Maka can’t breathe. Then he lifts a tentative arm and drapes it across the back of her seat. A second later, she feels a gentle tug at her pigtail, barely noticeable. “When this is over... _if_ I make it, I’ll tell you.”

She bursts into a grin. “Really?!”

“Yeah. Y’know Maka, you make me want to keep fighting.” To Maka’s disappointment, he takes his arm back. “I feel like I can do anything as long as you’re with me. That’s why I won’t let anything happen to you. I’d die for you.”

Happiness gives away to tears, and she turns to look out her window so he won’t see her wiping them away. Everything about Eater makes her emotional. Maybe because they’ve spent so much time together, seen each other at their worst. He even met her papa and it didn’t change his opinion of her. Sometimes she thinks she’s unreasonable, because she wishes she could touch him. God, she’s never directly _touched_ him. It’s a loss, a deprivation, an injustice. When they patch up each other’s wounds, they’re wearing latex gloves, and he’s always donning leather gloves or long sleeves anyway. It’s not fair. Maybe she’s selfish, but she just wants to _touch_ him. At least hold his hand or move his hair out of his eyes. And now he’s kind of expressing the same sentiment - that he wants to be with her, too. 

“I know you think this is a suicide mission we’re on, Eater, but…” Maka clears her throat and turns to look at him. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Defiance briefly makes an appearance on his features, but they melt into gratitude. “Thanks, Maka.”

X

"I don't want to startle you," Eater murmurs an hour later, voice barely audible. "But I think we're being followed."

Jaw clenched, Maka grips the yoke tightly. "Why do you say that?" 

"This… spaceship keeps weaving in and around asteroids right below us. They probably thought going through the actual belt itself would make it less obvious but they stick out like a sore thumb."

"I'll slow down and take the long way," she decides, and that's the end of their conversation until they land on the Jupiter base and Maka searches for Joe for a tune-up. Strangely, she doesn’t come across any mechanics or technicians in the spacious repair hangar at all. Tools lie around as if dropped while in the middle of a task.

"Hmm… I guess Joe's on lunch or something because I don't see him.” Giving the place one last glance, Maka leads Eater out. “Let's check back later."

The pair wander around until they reach the shopping center, not running into a single soul. Most of Humanity's population lives on Mars, yes, but a good chunk reside on this colony, and usually this area is bursting with activity. But today, nothing stirs. It's eerie and unnatural. Maka rings the metal table bell on the pizza restaurant counter, but no employee emerges to take their orders. 

"I'm not liking this," Eater says beside her, hands in his pockets. “Should we leave?”

Maka’s gut agrees with him. Rustling coming from behind the counter, however, makes her forget to listen to it. She stands on her tippy toes to get a better look, jerking back with a yelp when a blond, messy-haired young man jumps up and gets right in her face. With the Lord’s mask engraved on his deacon’s cross, Maka normally would safely guess he’s an ally, but his blue, cold eyes indicate otherwise. They radiate emptiness and strike panic in her chest.

“May I help you?” he rasps, adjusting his white Roman Catholic cleric's skullcap. “May I say a prayer for you?”

Eater tugs Maka back by the nape of her varsity jacket. “C’mon Maka, let’s go back to the ship.”

“Allow me to say a prayer for you,” the man repeats, holding out a hand and closing his eyes. Maka watches his lips move as Eater gently drags her away by the elbow. A disgusting shade of teal energy emanates from the metal floor around the man, whirring wildly before shooting right at her and Eater. Maka has enough time to scream and push herself and Eater to the side, barely missing impact. 

Eater curses under his breath, recovering and scrambling to his feet before Maka. He transforms his arm into a scythe, the scowl growing on his mouth the only thing sharper than its blade. "Go back to the ship Maka…I'll handle this."

" _No_!" she reaches inside her fanny pack, drawing out her gun. "We're a team. Let's bring him down together!"

The man smirks, leaps over the counter, and stands there, swaying on his feet and staring at them with a permanent look of disdain. "You'll be cleansed and brought to madness, too."

Maka doesn’t hesitate. Aiming and firing in a blink of an eye, the man buckles to the floor like a puppet cut from its strings. She takes a step toward him to investigate, but is stopped by Eater bringing down his scythe arm in front of her like a barrier. 

“Wait, that was too easy…”

A mist forms from the man’s head where her bullet hit, blooming like a flower in fast-forward. The man twitches, contorting and bending where normal human bodies shouldn’t. He sits up, Maka stifling a horrified gasp - half his face is now missing, replaced by a perpetual rippling flame, his eye socket glowing black. Blood gushes down his chin when he opens his mouth, staining his white shawl. A beat of silence ensues, and then suddenly his arms stretch and dive violently into the floor like tree-branch roots. 

Eater immediately leaps toward the man with his Scythe arm drawn, but the second his foot makes contact with the floor again, the man’s arms reemerge as black, thick spikes, popping up randomly. Chunks of flooring and shrapnel fly in all directions. With a grunt and a well-time flinch, Eater barely manages to avoid being impaled. 

“He’s a _weapon_!” he screams to Maka, unnecessarily. “Be careful!”

Maka shoots endless rounds at the man again while Eater hop-scotches through the spikey, ever-moving land-mine of spikes in an effort to land an attack on him. No matter how many bullets Maka shoots at him, he doesn’t go down again. Each hit makes him convulse violently, his attacks on Eater losing their speedy succession and precision. The mist around his head wound, though, thickens to smoke, his left shoulder now in flames too.

Suddenly, the floor beneath Maka trembles distantly. Instinct tells her to jump - _anywhere_ , and fast! In the same second she moves, a spike lances through the very spot she had stood. Shrieking, she makes a run for the man, shooting blindly until her bullets run out and she ditches it for a laser gun Eater had talked her into buying at a pawn shop weeks ago. The beams do cut through the man’s spikes a fraction better, but his attacks remain relentless. 

Next thing Maka knows, the man has encased Eater in a house of spikes and beams aimed in all directions. Eater takes a chance and dives through an opening to reach the blond faux priest, Maka successfully shooting out a spike that sprouted up in Eater's path to reach the man, scythe arm raised in front of him like a sword.

More blood spurts from the man’s other shoulder, who only grins and grabs Eater by the collar. “Madness madness madness,” he sniggers, swaying on the spot. His attacks become more haphazard around them, debris and spikes flying every which way. 

“Let him go!” With that, Maka takes out the man’s arm in five shots. Eater falls to the floor. Another small, misty flame replaces the man’s lost appendage, but he doesn’t seem to mind, not even as Eater gets in more jabs with his scythe arm.

Maka aims shots at the man's other eye. It lands, but - probably as a punishment to her - in return, he executes his most brutal spike yet. This time it _does_ do more than poke Eater. The spike’s precision isn’t the best due to his wounds - it only manages to hook onto Eater’s shirt, sending him flying and landing with a sickening _thud_ yards away _._

Instinct has Maka running to her partner, creating a bigger distance between herself and the deranged man. She kneels beside Eater, who insists he’s fine despite coughing up pieces of metal and blood. 

“It’s just some scratches, I promise.” Trembling, he climbs to his knees, eyes on the man still standing in his spot watching their every move. "The madness got this guy, too. I think if we keep chipping away at him, he’ll eventually die.”

As much as the idea of killing nauseates her, she has to admit - it’s either them or _him_. 

“Remember how I told you I can turn my whole body into a weapon?”

Maka nods, the small cuts on his face worrying her more than they should. She promised she would protect him, and she’s failing… 

“Okay, so here’s the plan - use me. Run at him and use me!” 

A bright light washes over Eater, the same one that takes his arm and molds it into metal, but this time when it subsides, he’s a Scythe, a sturdy, matte pole and a giant, deadly curved blade that slices through the metal floor when she accidentally drops him in surprise. Eater is cool to the touch, not at all like flesh... Maka bites down disappointment - will she ever touch him, skin to skin? - and then realizes the extent of the damage the floor has suffered with their fighting. Holes perforate the metal floor big enough for someone to slip through and become a victim to the endlessness of Space. A glance into one reveals nothing but darkness spotted with distant stars, Jupiter in the periphery.

Maka gulps, holding Eater close to her. 

“Watch your step,” he says in her head, Scythe vibrating in her hands with each syllable. 

The man continues to stare at them, calculating. 

When she takes another step, a spike blasts through one of the already existing holes. Angered, Maka growls deep in her throat and lurches forward, sprinting to close the distance between the man and herself, not hesitating when various smaller pointy tendrils spring up through what's left of the precious flooring to knick her calves and thighs. Flashes of Eater’s broken skin run through her mind, fueling her fury - how _dare_ this man hurt him, hurt _her!_ A sick feeling tells her he’s also responsible for the disappearances, why the colony seems to be a ghost town.

At close range, Maka jumps into the air, aiming Eater at the man’s skull. “DIE!” 

Suddenly, a familiar black Scythe appears from behind the man and hooks around his neck, protecting him from Maka’s blow, but also posing more of a threat to him. “Don’t kill him yet, Maka,” a new voice says smoothly. “We need to interrogate him. Wouldn’t you like to talk to us, Justin? We want to know what business you had at the casino.”

The man responds to the name, cackling. “So you’ve been following me. Or did Kid send you?”

Maka uses Eater as a lever to push herself back, seeing red hair in the new scythe’s shadow. “Papa? Is that you?”

On the other end of the black Scythe, a man wearing a ratted white lab coat winks at her. His silver-grey hair sparks a long-forgotten memory of her papa’s first partner at the academy, a strange man with an obsession with dissections and dark-humored pranks. "Stein… _Papa?!"_

A blue-hued wavelength appears from Stein’s palm, imprisoning Justin as a light of transformation gives way to her papa, his hair definitely shorter and brushed, held in a ponytail. "Maka, my angel!" 

She lets go of Eater, who transforms back to his normal human body, and runs to engulf her papa in a tight hug. For a mind numbing second, she had thought she was a goner, so she has no qualms about being saved by her papa. He pats her head, thanking Lord Death for her safety and going over to Eater to shake his hand vigorously, praising him for, “keeping my little angel safe.” 

Stein, the Space Force head surgeon, pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and leans down to address Justin. “Where are they? Where is Joe?”

"He's…in the butcher shop. Hanging upside down." Justin breaks into an endless giggle. "They're all in there. Hanging out. Get it?"

A heavy silence amongst the sane four settles, only broken by Papa's whimper. "Not _Joe_. Not Joe too."

Stein fiddles with the screw sticking out of his scalp. "The madness got to one of our own, huh? This is bad, Spirit. We’re screwed."

Justin sneers at Eater, rolling back and forth. “Are you afraid of spiders? Of death? Of spiders crawling over your family’s dead bodies?” More high pitched giggling. “We have special spiders for you. You’ll be dead too.”

Rage flows within Maka, a possessive, overprotective fury. In her mind's eye, she pulls Eater down by the collar and kisses him, hard and long, teeth clashing and biting, to mark him as her own and know what it’s like to touch him in case anything happens to either of them. 

But that only happens in her imagination. In reality, she apologizes to him without explanation and stomps up to her teary-eyed papa. 

"That’s a direct threat against my partner! I’m not letting anyone intimidate us. Take me to see our New Lord Death. I need to talk to him _now_!"

X

Death's chamber isn't dark or cold the way she imagined it would be. It's the perfect temperature. Light, airy, and calm, it's an exact replica of the blue sky they flew through to land on Earth a few moments ago. Maka had never flown through clouds before today, had only sort of encountered them in Tijuana, but this was like soaring through the softest of marshmallows. The clouds in Death's lair somehow look thousands of years old and new at the same time. Gravestones lie in neat rows in the green grass beyond, names in all languages engraved on their clean surfaces. The huge mirror against the wall reflects nothing, not even the cloaked figure before it. 

"You called for me, Maka?" He speaks as if this was her chamber, as if he's her servant. She can easily understand why he irritates Eater, who had refused to step inside the chamber with her for the impromptu meeting, only promising, "I'll back up whatever you do or decide."

"Tell me why you let this tragedy happen." The words sound like treason, but she doesn't care. "All those people on Jupiter… and _Joe_. Why did you let the madness consume Justin Law? One of your own Death Weapons?" 

When the New Lord Death whirls to greet her, Maka’s jaw nearly drops to the polished, reflective floor. Beneath the misshapen cloak, Kid isn't the tall, ominous, eccentric, shadowy figure his father once was, no. For one, Kid's slender figure wouldn't intimidate anybody, not even a jumpy newborn baby. Everything about him is either black, white, or grey, from his ghostly complexion to his dark suit. Three white lines run horizontally across his inky dark hair, which Maka suspects form perfect circles around his head. 

But his eyes, that’s what convinces her he’s not human - they’re like two halos, one within the other. The ring closest to his iris is a dull orange, and the outer one a flat yellow. Both lack a spark of life and make him appear disinterested. The longer he stares at her, the more she believes he can read her mind and see her future. 

“I fell into this position. I did not know I was going to take over my father’s reign. I did not know He could leave this world,” Kid explains. He actually looks like a kid playing dress-up in his too-big cloak. “I do not yet know all of my duties or powers. I have visions, but they come to me late at times.”

Maka almost feels bad for him… _almost_. But Eater will feel vindicated when she tells him his suspicion about the New Lord Death’s lapse in skills was correct. 

The New Lord Death continues: “And when I do receive a vision with ample time to act, I cannot.”

“But _why?_ It’s your duty to protect Humanity.”

Kid shakes his head. “That is where you are wrong, Maka. My duty is to watch. Same as my father before me.”

Her fists ball at her side. For an insane second, she wonders what punishment she would endure for punching Kid’s teeth out. Maybe he would put a bounty out on her like he did with Liz and Patti…two criminals who have been oddly quiet since Lady Arachne recruited them. 

“But, _you’re_ the leader of the Space Force, aren’t you? Doesn’t that mean you’re in control?”

“I’m not a shepherd,” he says simply. 

What irks Maka the most is that his expression hasn’t changed at all since they began talking. No sign of remorse, no sign of frustration at having his hands tied in this situation. Eater was right - the figure Lord Death is neither good nor bad, neither here nor there. 

“I understand your frustration.” Kid takes a step toward her off the platform, almost gliding, his dress shoes barely making a noise. “Growing up, I did not agree with my father’s habit of… letting things unfold. I wanted perfect peace. But now that I inherited some of his light, I understand that the universe creates its own balance, including good and bad.”

“Giriko is _killing_ people because he likes it, and my partner Eater and I think Giriko is part of a criminal organization. They're the ones responsible for spreading this madness." Maka does meet Kid halfway, shaking him by the shoulders. "Innocent people are dying! And more will die! Don't you care?" 

"I care about symmetry," Kid repeats, bored. "A God must not interfere in Humanity's fate."

Maka holds his face. "But your dad did. Kid, _please_."

He blinks, expression blank. Already pre-frustrated with a negative response she doesn't want to hear, she lets him go, huffing. 

"I am more human in both appearance and thinking than my father." Kid adjusts his cloak where she wrinkled it. "I lived amongst them, you know. I went to their schools here on Earth, and I saw how they lived. I wanted to control everything. Even their lives. I wanted perfection."

Half of Maka wants to yell at him to shut up. Why is he telling her this anyway? She doesn't care. Why should she feel bad for the son of Death? He lost his father, and - 

Oh. And she lost a parent, too. 

Suddenly it occurs to Maka that she and Kid have a lot in common. 

“But it is hard to break old habits. And not all habits are bad.” The corners of his lips twitch into a faint smile. “What is wrong with wanting everything perfect, as long as my goals are realistic?”

A fire sparks in Maka, a light of hope. "Does that mean you'll help?!" 

"I will use my contacts, but not fight myself. That is not against the universe's law." Kid's face glows with pride, beaming for an instant before pulling on a somber face. "But Maka, you must join us, and help lead the charge against Arachnophobia. First, I need you to tell me everything you know about Madame Arachne and Giriko. And Liz and Patti. I had a vision of you and your partner fighting them in a bar, but I could not see the outcome."

Quickly, Maka recaps how she and Eater met, how he used Liz to negotiate for Maka's life at the gas station. Kid doesn't flinch at any of Maka's descriptions of the Thompsons, brushing off Maka's near-death experiences without concern. Neither does he bat an eye when Maka describes Giriko's ruthless fighting style or Soul's thigh injury. It's only when she mentions that Liz and Patti left with Madam Arachne that she coaxes a response from him. 

"The sisters are with _her_?" For Kid, it seems like this tidbit is the worst news. "They joined Arachnophobia?" 

"So Eater was right about that, too?!" To Maka, her partner is the best soothsayer to exist. "Are they an organized crime unit?" 

Kid explains that after Earth’s first demise eons ago, he had had a vision of the last witch Madam Arachne breaking her body into thousands of spiders, scattering them across the globe to lie in wait to reunite with her soul and eventually spread madness. Driven by her distaste of humans, she had contributed to the chaos on Earth by sending out poisonous spiders to kill indiscriminately, but hadn’t predicted that Lord Death would actually intervene and send humanity into Space. His actions had left a bad taste in her mouth and a desire for a coup d'état. 

Growing up, Kid had caught whispers of a handful of like-minded humans out there meeting in secret, eventually gaining followers all over the universe. When Kid reported these visions to his father, Lord Death did not seem disturbed - he had been more concerned about the repercussions of intervening with Life. 

“So, as you can see, I cannot risk meddling in humanity's fate as my father did.” Refined and graceful, Kid lets out a sigh, closing his eyes briefly. “His own son betrayed him and killed him. I believe that was his punishment from the universe for rewriting the future. In a way, my father caused all of this suffering. If he had not had a hand in sending humanity out of Earth, Arachnophobia would not have formed and gained this much power. So, this time, I will use a very light, distant hand - with your help, of course.”

The vague reasoning is enough for Maka. She’s not interested in the what-if’s, should-haves, an could-haves. What matters is _now_ , saving humanity _today_. Kid turns his back to her as if dismissing her, but she clears her throat. "Wait, that's not all I wanted to talk to you about."

He doesn’t turn to look at her. "As I surmised."

"Do…" her voice cracks like glass under pressure. "Do souls come back?" 

"No," he says, not unkindly. 

“Where do souls go when they die?”

“I cannot say.”

She tries one last time. "Will I ever see my mama again?" 

Kid remains stonily silent. It's enough of an answer. Maka isn't ashamed to stand there and cry into her hands. She takes her time, not caring that snot smears over her face or that she begins to sweat under the pressure of fighting evil and trying to do good. It's all too much, and she's just a human trying to make sense of this life. 

When the worst of it passes, she sniffles. "Is she happy, at least? Can you tell me?" 

The young Lord Death drifts back onto his platform, gazing into his mirror that does not show his reflection. "I cannot see as much as my father. He could see everything, and would have been able to tell you everything you ever wanted to know, and even things you never wanted to know. However, I only receive visions, inklings at best, and I am still bound by the universe not to reveal its secrets.”

Emotionally drained, Maka reaches into her fanny pack and finds a crumpled tissue, cleaning herself up before moving to return to the hallway and reconvene with Eater. As soon as her hand touches the heavy door, Kid speaks out: "I will say one thing, though…if you keep each other close and safe, both of you will find harmony and balance."

A mixture of anxiety and sorrow further breaks her heart. She whirls around to find Kid still staring into the mirror. "You mean my papa? Is he in danger?" 

Kid shakes his head. "Your _partner_."

“...Eater?”

Silence. Maka notes that neither the cloud nor the grass blades move. It’s silent in this chamber, as if time doesn’t pass.

Maka tries again. “What’s his real name?”

“I cannot say, and that is not because the laws of the universe prohibit me. It is because doing so would go against your partner’s wishes.”

She rolls her eyes, wondering what kind of relationship Eater and Kid have, anyway. They’ve obviously spoken before. She senses that Eater once asked Kid the same exact questions about death that she did… 

“I _can_ promise,” Kid says a little happily, “that he is not hiding anything dangerous to your wellbeing. He will open up to you when he is ready.”

“Hmph!” Stuffing the used tissue back in her fanny pack, she re-ties her pigtails, hoping to look half out together. “I thought you said you couldn’t interfere in the universe.”

“I have found loopholes. I can play Cupid as much as I like.”

Maka refuses to blush. Why does everyone assume she and Eater are more than partners? She marches out of the chamber, pleased to spot Eater crouched at the other end of the hallway with a cigarette between his lips. At the sight of her, he stomps it out and heads in her direction, meeting her halfway. 

Concern ripples across his face. "You've been crying. Are you okay?" 

Her face aches from grinning at him already, not sure how much longer she can stand not being able to hug him. "Mhm. Never better, actually."

One of his brows hikes up. "So? How did it go?" 

Maka, so giddy with the revelation that Kid's message was not an omen but a rare, good-natured tip, has to hold her hands behind her back to keep from jumping on Eater and holding him close. "We're joining the Space Force! Temporarily, of course. Until we take down Arachnophobia."

" _Ugh_. I hate you," he complains, exasperated, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But I’ll follow you anywhere.”

“Good,” she says earnestly. Her feelings aren’t hurt by his frustration at all because she has him figured out, knows he speaks in opposites sometimes. She’s elated to hear him basically confessing his adoration for her in his native tongue - sarcasm. It makes her feel powerful in a way, that his loyalty and devotion to their partnership are solid. 

“You’re unbelievable, Maka. You go in there ready to rip Kid’s head off, and you come out leading the Space Force.” He half-laughs, half-scowls, covering his eyes as if hiding from his emotions. “I just… hate you so, _so_ much.”

Too bad she doesn’t have herself sorted out, because her mouth articulates what her thoughts haven’t, and it all comes together as she says, "I love you, too." 


	6. may madness never stop you

There’s not much time to delve into any deep conversations about their partnership after the meeting with Kid. And anyway, her confession doesn't change much between them except they both say ‘I love you’ to each other at random times, like when he's cooking their meals or when she's done reading a book for the day. There is no pattern, and she’s both thankful for it and disappointed by the lack of...change. 

But then again, Maka isn’t in the right frame of mind for sorting out her feelings about Eater. After Justin Law's interrogation, Papa told Maka that the rogue weapon revealed the casino as Arachnophobia's headquarters, which explained why Stein's surveillance of several madness-infected citizens led him to the lone asteroid housing the loud, brightly lit, colorful social club one too many times. It all came as a surprise to Maka, especially when her papa had also disclosed that he had partially resumed his duties with Death’s office not too long ago. He had jumped at the chance to investigate why the Jupiter base hadn't responded to the Space Force's incoming calls, and it had been lucky because he was there ‘to help his sweet, precious sweetie angel pie in her time of need.’ 

And, of course, he had cried when Maka thanked him for stepping in, calling him her hero. Then she immediately regretted it when she had tagged along on his grocery shopping trip and he had gone out of his way to tell everyone.

"Our New Lord Death has not yet picked his Death Weapon," her papa had reminded. "So don’t worry! I'm only filling in for now."

Glad that her papa is in a happier mood, Maka couldn't hold a grudge against him for not filling her in on the Space Force's movements or investigations. The conversation with Kid had enlightened her a little, making it easier for her to give the benefit of the doubt and respect rules…kind of. 

Time passes in an instant. All too soon, two weeks after the incident at the Jupiter colony, she and Eater report for duty at the Space Force southern base on Mars. Surprisingly, her papa, now dressed in his suit and loosely cinched tie, gives them orders - take backup to the casino and lure Liz and Patti Thompson away from the crowd to capture them for interrogation. "Get a feel for who else may be working for Arachnophobia, how they're spreading madness, and report back."

Eater doesn't bother to mask his confusion and derision. "Why don't you do it? Don't you hang out there all the time with your 'lady friends'?" 

Maka practically breathes fire. This habit of her papa isn't new - her childhood had been highlighted by trips with her mama to drag her papa home after his countless benders - but hearing that he's fallen back into old destructive habits riles her up. "WHAT?" 

Papa pulls that sheepish, guilty face again, stepping backward cautiously. "Yes, for work! I go with Stein for _work_ , to investigate the other employees there who may have ties to Arachnophobia."

"And take shots and throw money at the waitresses," Eater snorts. 

"That's why Kid doesn't want us to go anymore," Stein says from behind them, gliding into the office on a rolling desk chair. "He says we're not fit for the task because Spirit can't control himself at the slot machines."

"I'm not even mad about the women, Papa," Maka growls. "You've been _gambling_ again?" 

"Well - not really, my little angel! I don’t use my money. Just Stein’s.”

“Your old man’s a flippin’ _mess_ ,” Black Star’s voice rings out, sauntering behind Kilik as the two step into the office, both dressed in civilian clothing. “I heard that Our New Lord Death thought Spirit had been infected by madness because he was so wasted, but nah, his happy ass is immune to it because he’s a goofball.”

Maka isn’t sure if she should be relieved, let her papa off the hook for technically lying to her, or slap Black Star for making fun of her papa. She chooses to envelop Kilik in a hug instead. Black Star joins in, calling for a group cuddle and waving over Eater. 

“C’mon, you emo-looking dude, you know you want to!”

However, Eater is just as insistent in refusing Black Star's offer, and Maka feels a pang in her chest at another missed opportunity to touch him before she remembers why they're here. “Wait, so Black Star and Kilik…are our back ups?”

“It makes more sense to send a crowd of normal young adults to approach Liz and Patti,” Stein explains in a disinterested tone, tipping his head in Papa’s direction. “Especially since everyone knows _he’s_ connected to Our New Lord Death. The Thompsons avoid him like the plague.”

“Uhm,” Eater begins, exchanging a doubtful look with Maka. “We’re not sure how to tell you this, but…Liz and Patti aren’t exactly happy with us. They might not welcome us with open arms. They might shoot us on the spot, actually.”

This time it’s Papa’s turn to squak worriedly. “WHAT?”

“Hehe, just some… acquaintances,” Maka explains, plastering on her award-winning smile that used to get her all the toys and books and coloring sets she wanted as a child. 

But her papa won’t let the subject go. God, it’s annoying. Is this what she’s like? No, it can’t be…she only makes a big deal out of stuff that matters, not dumb things she can handle like making dangerous enemies or getting banged up during fights with criminals. 

“ _Anyway_ ,” Eater says loudly over Papa’s obnoxious fretting, “the Thompsons are gonna recognize us, so this undercover mission is a no-go.”

Stein chortles, a dark smile screwing up his already scarred face. “I have a solution for that.”

X

“Your dad didn’t have to pull my hair,” Eater grumbles to Maka as the groups stroll beneath a row of multicolored neon lights leading to the casino entrance. He tugs at his black wig in disdain. “Why do I get the feeling he does this kind of stuff on purpose? Why doesn’t he like me?”

_“Because he thinks you’re my boyfriend_ ,” she wants to say, but just the mention of possibly being more than bounty hunting partners could lead to awkwardness between them. “You’ll grow on him…I hope.”

Eater groans, eyes rolling back so far his irises disappear. "You know what? I blame Kid for all this. We're doing his dirty work while he sits on his throne on Earth and folds toilet paper into neat triangles or something."

"His hands are tied," Maka reminds, not sure if she completely believes that herself. 

The casino is cloudy with smoke and the incessant noise of music, boisterous slot machines, and animated conversations fills the air. While Eater gawks at the tacky decor and paintings lining the walls, Maka sneaks a closer look at him. She'd been too afraid earlier to admire his new hair at the base or on the spacetrain ride - she was worried that she would start blushing - but now her curiosity is too strong to ignore. He's just so endearing with black hair; Maka lets herself admire the rest of his outfit: casual joggers instead of his usual jeans exchanged for casual joggers, and he had actually rolled up his sleeves. Maka bites her lower lip. His forearms - ahh, they're _nice_ , strong, and definitely distracting. Something about his skin just makes nervous and giddy, so she focuses on adjusting her own dark brown curly wig, so unlike her own thin, straight hair. 

When she zones back in, Maka realizes Black Star is wasting no time rehashing all of Maka's humiliating moments to Eater, who's visibly trying hard not to guffaw. 

“And then, bam!” Black Star pounds his fist onto a black jack table as they pass, jolting all of its occupants. “Maka walked across the stage and tripped and farted.”

She glares at him, teeth bared. “I did _not_ fart, Black Star. And it was kindergarten graduation, who cares?”

The group weaves through the last of the tables, Kilik leading them to an empty semi-circle booth where they all take a seat. Maka plops herself next to Eater. 

As usual, Black Star won’t shut up. “You cried, Maka.”

She doesn’t deny it. 

“You always cry.”

“And _you_ always talk too much!” she snaps.

“ _Ouch_ ,” Black Star mocks. “I need to take a medical leave because of that dumb comeback.”

Kilik, always the father figure in their group, _tsks_ at Black Star and reminds all of them in a hushed tone that they’re supposed to look normal and keep their eyes out for any suspicious activity. 

"Dude, this whole place is suspicious." Black Star raises his arms and waves them around as if showing off the casino. "People gambling their life savings away? Maka's pervy dad allowed to even step foot in here and stare at all the hot chicks? _Dude_. Don't get me started."

Maka’s hands curl at her side instead of wringing Black Star's neck like she wants to. She opens her mouth to verbally assault him when Eater leans into her ear, his proximity short-circuiting her brain. 

"You could probably stab him with your heel and no one would blame you."

She melts into the cushions, too flustered to laugh. 

“Dude, she’s hot,” Black Star says loudly, pointing at a familiar tall blonde with long legs and thick thighs at the table behind them. Both Maka and Kilik elbow him on either side, prompting him to defend himself. “What? I’m just sayin’, narrating some spiciness into your boring lives.”

“It’s _Liz_ ,” Eater whispers to Maka, though she didn’t need Liz to be pointed out by anyone. The older Thompson sister, clad in a too-tight, too-revealing waitress uniform, scowls at whatever her customer said without bothering to hide her annoyance. 

“Of course we serve water here, you idiot,” she snaps. “Don’t waste my time. Is that all you want?”

Patti materializes out of the throng of people hypnotized by the activity at a nearby black jack table. “Sissy! Madam Arachne said you have to pretend to _be nice_!”

“I don’t take orders from anyone!” Liz slams her notepad down on the table and stomps off through a double swinging doors labeled with a sign that reads “Employees only.”

Kilik, Black Star, Eater, and Maka blink at each other, all varying levels of dumbstruck. Obviously, Liz isn't too happy working here for Arachnophobia - maybe coaxing her away from the casino will be easier than they all expected? They decide to split up, Kilik and Black Star electing to work on Patti while Maka and Eater follow Liz. After all, there's no point in avoiding a confrontation - might as well get it over with, if one has to happen. Besides, Liz is the more tame sister. She’d at least pause before attacking them. Patti would just go straight for their jugulars.

Glancing around and satisfied that no one has spotted them lingering by the employee door, Maka slips through, Eater following faithfully. She doesn’t expecting to step into a kitchen filled with scrambling cooks. Thankfully, they’re too preoccupied with their meal preparations to notice Maka and Eater sneak through the next door, which leads to a long hallway with several doors. 

One of them suddenly opens.

What should she and Eater do? They have nowhere to hide, and backtracking to the kitchen could be a gamble - one of the cooks may notice-

A pink haired girl around their age enters the hallway and freezes at the sight of Maka and Eater. A metal lantern dangles from her hand. She is unreadable as she sizes them up both interestedly, then slowly lifting a finger to point to the door she came through.

“This way,” she says, strolling past them. “May madness never stop you.”

Maka opens her mouth to question her - is she warning them or helping them? - but she decides it’s better to find out herself. Pushing Eater through the door first, she quietly closes it to cover their tracks and instantly realizes why the girl required her own lantern. 

“This isn’t where Liz went,” Eater says, voice echoing. “What gives? This is like a cave.”

“A what?”

“A ca - nevermind, it’s just odd. I bet this leads to Arachnophobia’s main war room or something…and knowing you, you want to find out, don’t you?”

Finally, someone who truly understands how her mind works. The urge to hug him has never been so strong. Luckily, she resists temptation, since she’s had so much practice. “Yep. That’s right, Space Cowpoke, get to walkin’.”

Darkness swallows them the deeper they tread into the stone passageway. Maka reaches for Eater's hand - it’s safer to travel like she that, her brain tells her, so they won't lose each other - but she accidentally grabs him by the wrist instead, too nervous to correct her mistake and lace her fingers between his. She turns to gauge his reaction, but there is too little light to distinguish any of his features. 

"I'm here," he reassures. "If anything happens, I'll transform."

They continue along, occasionally tripping over stray stones or stepping in small puddles, pausing at every interruption to listen for footsteps besides their own. Water drops falling from the ceiling echo around them, the air buzzing with deafening silence. Soon the pair have traveled too far from the door for the light to reach and they're enveloped in complete blackness, worse than the one in Space because at least there is plenty of room out there, and in here - in _here_ , it's claustrophobic, the walls and ground and ceiling narrowing the further they travel. 

Behind her, she can hear Eater's shallow, careful breathing. "I think I see another light... like a candle."

But Maka can't find see anything except nothingness. Sweat beads along her hairline and underneath her wig. For a moment she contemplates flinging it away, but decides better of it. She'll need the disguise on their way out. Still, she's not used to her hair touching her shoulders. 

"There's a rock here, be careful," Maka warns every time she stubs her toes on one "And there's a step here, going down..."

"I'm super creeped out," Eater whispers behind her, voice bouncing off the bricks. 

"Me too, but we're almost there, I think."

A water drop lands on the tip of her nose and crawls up between her eyebrows. Maka stops abruptly, biting down a scream. That's not... normal. And why does her hair seem to be growing... longer? The water drop continues to wander her face, the realization that it's some sort of bug dawning on her slowly, mostly due to her staunch denial. Distantly, she becomes too aware of hundreds of tiny legs tapping their way around her shoulders, along her elbows, down her arm, to her hand...

Maka lets go of Eater's wrist, who curses in a whisper so loud it's more ear-piercing than a siren's wail. 

"Spiders," he gasps. The sound of slapping follows, flicking and swatting. "Spiders! _Spiders_!"

Squashing one seemingly generates four more in its place. All of their tiny legs wriggling over her legs, arms, and back feel like an itch, and she pushes herself against the wall to crush all of them at once, only to discover that the walls are moving in waves too, blanketed by creeping legs, too. When a spider slips beneath the collar of her shirt, she shrieks, her vocal cords straining. The mass moves toward her mouth and she promptly shuts it before they enter.

"Maka!"

Is this madness? Everything seems to be moving but she can't see anything but darkness, everywhere she turns filled with crawling, scuttling spiders and their impossibly fast legs. The one spider in her shirt bustles in zigzags across her back and wraps around to her stomach before she finally lands a strike and kills it. 

Justin's warning returns as if he's standing in the passageway next to them: _Do you like spiders? ...We have special spiders for you. You’ll be dead too._

"Maka, let's go, let's _go_!" 

Gloved hands clumsily collide into her nose. Eater apologizes and, hooking his arm around hers, leads her forward, Maka struggling to force her legs to work and keep up with his long strides. More spiders hail from above, Maka screeching while scraping them off in handfuls. As light from the curved doorway ahead washes over them and illuminates their surroundings, bile rushes up her throat at the first glimpse of their attackers: an army of hairy, creeping spiders in all shapes and sizes. 

The passageway widens again. The two suck in monstrous breaths as they dive into a dome-shaped room where the last of the spiders trickle out. Panting, Eater asks if she's okay. Apparently he had lost his wig somewhere in the hallway too, because his hair sticks out in odd angles. Maka fights off the urge to pat it down - now isn't the time for pining. 

"Welcome," a regal voice booms. Slow clapping follows, each somehow more condescending than the last. 

Maka's head snaps to the center of the room. Perched on a tall throne, a woman wearing black lipstick and a velvety, flowy dress grins at them, her white teeth a stark contrast to the darkness around them. It’s the woman from the bar in Tijuana, the witch who recruited Liz and Patti...

"I would have appreciated it if you treated my spiders with more care,” Madam Arachne continues. “They were simply alerting me of your presence and welcoming you. Nothing else." 

Eater silently moves Maka aside, right arm in front of him the way she’s seen when he’s preparing to transform it. 

"They're harmless." Even Madam Arachne’s chuckling is dignified. “And they’re loyal. They heard Kim let you know where I am, and I imagine they’re having a grand party with your little friends out there.”

The image of the horde of spiders overtaking the casino’s orange walls and red faded booths sends shivers down Maka’s fine. And Black Star and Kilik - are they alright? Regrets eat at her. They shouldn’t have split up. 

“Well, maybe I shouldn’t say they’re _harmless_ … they love to bite, you know. One little bite and you’ll go _mad_.” 

Beside her, Eater gasps. An instant later, the witch’s admission finally registers to Maka and she yells, "They're disgusting, and so are you!"

The witch drops her pleasant demeanor, scowling. "What a rude little girl."

Hatred burns through Maka. She's staring at the person responsible for so many deaths, including her mama. "I know your game, Arachne, and I'm here to stop you!"

"Madam Arachne," the witch corrects, snapping her fan open with a flick of her wrist. "I thank you for bringing this fine weapon specimen to me... I do not have a Scythe in my collection. If you leave him and walk away, I’ll give you a five second running start."

Although Maka's intuition tells her that the woman is trying to get under her skin as a distraction, she can't help but grab Eater by the arm possessively. "This one's mine! And you're not collecting another soul or spreading madness anymore!"

The blinding light of transformation monetarily washes the whole area in white. Steel wedges itself into the palm of her hands, cool to the touch but buzzing with life, with secrets. 

_"Like last time,"_ Eater's hums in her head, and Maka can almost feel his grin. _"Let's take her down."_

But battling a witch is nothing like battling a stationary Weapon like Justin Law. They can't even get close enough to land an attack. Arachne uses magic to worm herself into Maka's head...each step Maka takes she feels like she's falling through a hole in the ground. The sensation of crawling, tiny legs on her ankles sends her into shivers, breaking her concentration, but when she looks down, there aren't any spiders on her body. The worst is when Maka glances at Eater's Scythe eye and a large spider stares back at her, blinking all of its black eyes. 

She drops Eater, who transforms back into his human form, on his hands and knees. He claws at the space in front, furiously brushing away at nothing. “There are spiders all over their bodies. Make them stop!" 

"Who? Whose bodies?" Maka cries, unable to bear the tortured look on his face. She leans forward to touch him - yes, finally, she's going to get to touch him, even if it has to be under these circumstances - but he goes up in a cloud of smoke, turning into a human sized spider that fixes Maka with a pleading stare.

"I DON'T WANT TO SEE THEM SUFFER!" the spider wails in Eater's voice. Is that Eater? No, that's a huge spider, and Eater is a spider…wait. Eater is a _boy_. That's right! Maka grips on to that thought because it seems logical. Oh, she's losing her mind. Lalala. Hehehe. What's her name again? Mimi? She's Maka and she's here with spider boy…scythe boy, Eaterboy, Eater, and they came here to… to what, again? Her brain feels fuzzy, like it’s covered in lint.

Maka points a finger at the amused witch. She feels drunk with madness, devoid of pain and anger.

"I…won't let you win," Maka vows, swatting at her arms to squish more spiders that don't exist. Should she squish Eaterspider too, to free the boy from the spider? 

Writhing on the floor, Eater finally quiets down, slows to a halt. For a wild, desperate second Maka thinks he fought off the madness and will come to her rescue like he has in the past, but he doesn't. He creeps over to Arachne's feet, begging her to stop the hallucinations. 

"I almost pity you," the witch says, kicking him. She makes a sport of it, pointy-toed heels digging into his ribs and forcing him to roll over as if playing with a soccer ball. His whole body jerks and convulses, a combination of his mental torment and physical assault by the witch. 

Maka is sure _that's_ not a delusion. Why can't her feet move? Her arms are…heavy, leaden, and she has no power over them. She stares at her arms until she finally makes out a string tied around her wrists. Tracing it upward, she discovers she is attached to a marionette puppet controller, a giant, laughing Madam Arachne controlling her. 

When Maka opens her mouth to scream, she can't. She has no tongue. 

Eater’s shrieks snap her out of the hallucination, cutting her strings away. In reality now - is it though? Or is this another delusion? - Eater kneels at Madame Arachne's feet, begging for mercy. 

It's always injustice that manages to move Maka. "Stop! Let him go!" 

In the split second Madam Arachne takes her eyes off Eater, Eater's arm flashes into deadly sharpness, his sobbing ceasing abruptly and replaced by determined, hateful silence. He dives forward, impaling his scythe arm into the witch's stomach. 

"Clever boy," she praises, swaying on her feet. Blood gushes from her mouth. "You sneaky…bast..."

“Maka!” Eater’s yell snaps her out of the half-trance she was still stuck in, and she reacts in time to catch him as he hurls towards her and transforms into his full scythe form. Letting out a furious noise through gritted teeth, she rushes forward, using his sturdy, long handle as leverage to cartwheel over Madam Arachne, dragging the blade completely up the witch's midsection. It's as easy as dragging her finger through water. As Maka sticks her landing, Arachne explodes into millions of spiders that flow toward Maka and Eater. The wave slows to a stop, its members shriveling up and dying before they can reach them.

The newfound silence is deafening. Struggling to catch her breath, Maka hugs Eater's scythe form, glad that he saved her once again. Her partner is _amazing_ , honestly, for escaping the madness with his own sheer willpower. "How did you do it? How did you…fight the madness by yourself?" 

" _It was do or die. I needed to escape from things I didn't ever want to see again_ ," he replies in her head, and refuses to speak more about it. 

X

When Maka and Eater re-emerge from the passageway, they're relieved to find the Space Force at the casino, officers handcuffing casino employees. Relief instantly washes over Maka. She and Eater had rushed back through the passageway as soon as they verified Arachne was dead to help Black Star and Kilik, who they imagined were outnumbered by spiders and casino employees, but they find their friends at the slot machines. Or more like, they followed Black Star's yodeling. 

"Damn, you guys look worse than a public toilet," he says, "What the hell happened?" 

Irritated by his nonchalance, Maka grabs him by the collar. "Arachne almost made us lose our _shit_! How can you sit there and ask why we look bad? Don't you care that we almost died?" 

Black Star raises a thin, unimpressed eyebrow. "Dude, calm down, you silly clown. I mean, I do care, _duh!_ But obviously you didn’t die so I’m not gonna worry too much about it." 

Even when Maka recounts her battle with Arache - withholding the many details of Eater's psychological torture - Black Star gives a low whistle and fills them in on what happened.

"We got word from our double agent that you were snoozin’ for bruisin’ so we called backup too. It was a PARTY! But it got weird cuz outta nowhere the spiders died and the employees stopped acting crazy."

She blinks, wondering if the madness got a hold of Black Star, too. "Double agent?"

"Yeah," he says casually as he goes back to playing slots. "Pink-haired chick, goes by Kim, always looks too cool to talk. Anyway, she loves money above everything else, which is why she volunteered to go undercover at a casino - hey Kilik buddy, pass me my soda, will ya? Actually, just pour it in my mouth."

Kilik jumps in to confirm Black Star’s fantasy tale that yes, it’s all true, and everything worked out much better than anyone ever planned or dreamed. To Maka’s visceral disgust, he actually holds the Coke can and lets the liquid fall into Black Star’s open mouth, who’s too busy texting on his phone between rounds on the slot machine.

“And we captured the hot girl for Kid,” Black Star belches. “We’re holding them at the bar.”

Beside her, Eater breaks his silence, exhaling as though hearing the best news of the year. “Oh _good_! I was worried because I don’t see them anywhere and I’m not a fan of getting beat up twice in a day.”

In an incredulous haze, Maka eventually drifts off to survey the damage to the casino with Eater loyally at her side. Several garish art pieces he had judged earlier now lay ripped and punctured on the carpet. They spot a few black jack table legs jammed into the walls, shards of broken wine glasses and bottles, and drenched playing cards. Yep, it definitely looks like a battle raged on while she and Eater were facing off with Arachne, but Maka still can’t believe she had taken down Arachnophobia so… quickly.

Neither can Kid. When he arrives, he shakes Maka’s hand for eight minutes straight all while praising her skill and bravery. It’s not until Eater pries them apart that Kid claps his hands together and resumes his godly duties, although less grimly than before. Rosy-cheeked and excited, Kid isn’t wearing his cloak. Every button on his black suit shines in the uneven lights as he marches right up to Liz and Patti, who have been bound together and ordered to sit on two miraculously intact barstools. 

Probably aware that they’ve reached the end of their rope, Liz scowls defiantly in a last-ditch effort to come out on top. “Oh, so you’re out of that cast now, huh?”

Maka had forgotten about the Thompson sisters’ crime that earned them a spot on the New Lord Death’s Most Wanted list – the break-in of his home and subsequence injury.

The jab doesn’t damper his mood. “I am a God. I do not need a cast. I heal quickly.”

Patti cackles, kicking her legs gleefully. “Your hair grew back kinda uneven though!”

That comment, however, hits Kid differently. Wincing and patting his hair self-consciously, he visibly struggles to regain his composure. Maka vaguely recalls that he had admitted adoring symmetry and balance a little too much...she suspects the unforeseen asymmetry in his appearance caused a lot of mental distress. 

“So go on, take us to jail,” Liz taunts, growling. The hint of disappointment is unmistakable. “I would rather be locked up than work for Arachne anyway...just don’t separate Patti and me.”

"You do not have to worry about that,” Kid says, smiling like a child in a candy store. “I was impressed by your ability to break through Earth’s barrier and infiltrate my home. So, I want you two to be my official weapons…but, it will be hard work. We will have to follow a vigorous training plan that will take many years to complete. Will you accept my offer?" 

Liz and Patti share a stupefied look, communicating without any words. Then Liz asks him, "And we get to live with you on Earth in that big mansion?" 

Kid doesn't hesitate. "The one you broke into and smashed everything in? Yes."

Patti jumps five feet into the air, forgetting that she and Liz are tied together. The two fall on top of one another, but neither seems to mind. "YAY! We don't have to live on the streets anymore! Oh Sissy, this is the _best_!" 

Beside Maka, Eater scoffs impatiently. She zones back in and hears him say, "Great, just great… We almost died so Kid could get new weapons. Perfect!" He turns to her. "Glad this is over. Can we leave now, Maka?"

The pair say their goodbyes to Kid, but not before he offers them to join his inner circle as consultants, which Maka swiftly turns down. She and Eater want no part in the Space Force or Death's office. Kid also forces the Thompsons to apologize to Maka and Eater, and while Patti eagerly drops her grudge, Liz narrows her eyes at them until they leave. 

"I won't miss them," Eater sighs, throwing his arms over his head to stretch. "Let's go home before anything else bad happens."

But their luck changes for the better, sort of, when a kitten somehow sneaks onto Maka’s ship when they stop to fill up at a gas station where she and Eater first met. The purple feline jumps on Eater as soon as he settles in, causing him to spill his cherry flavored Icee all over the interior and provoking Maka’s exhausted rage. 

“My _seats_!” she bemoans.

Eater looks like he wants to cry. “MY _ICEE_!”

“If those stains don’t come out, I’m throwing you into the Sun!”

“Can we stop for a new Icee on the way there?”

Maka can’t bite down the laughter any longer. The combination of sleep deprivation and adoration does a number on her, lowering her defenses. Too weary to think, Maka sits in the pilot’s seat and watches Eater patiently clean the mess, muttering darkly about his “beloved Icee” and that his love “can never be” and cursing the kitten for catching him off guard. 

“That was a dirty trick you played, you dumb animal,” he purrs at her, scratching under her chin. “Hah, hey look Maka, she’s kind of cute, in an ugly way.”

Next thing she knows, he’s asking to keep her. Who is Maka to deny Eater his wishes? She can’t say no to the boy. 

“I’m beginning to think gas stations are a new place to make friends," he says, winking at Maka while the kitten crawls all over him. “I’m lucky you like strays.”

Blushing, Maka pretends to fiddle with the controls while he finishes cleaning and buckles his seatbelt. She’s red all the way back to the hangar, barely managing to plop into her usual chair at the table while Eater, high off of narrowly escaping death and probably afraid to fall asleep and risk having spider-related nightmares, bounces around the cramped kitchen preparing a meal. It’s not an easy feat with the kitten wrapped around his ankles, tripping him.

“Let’s name her Blair,” Maka says, chin in her hand, “because she looks so sophisticated.”

“She’s _annoying_ ,” Eater corrects, but makes kissy faces at the cat anyway.

He’s cute when he’s happy, she thinks, and thanks the kitten for showing Eater love. 


	7. wherever it is that souls go

Maka finds herself feeling blue for weeks after killing Arachne.

Maybe that’s not the right word. She’s down and out, unmotivated, unsatisfied, bored, unfilled... pensive. Stuck. Sure, she and Eater managed to take down the leader of a thousand-year-old cult, but Maka feels no joy in that accomplishment because Giriko _escaped_. Humanity is saved for now, but her mission isn’t over. Her mama’s killer is nowhere to be found, as if he's disintegrated into stardust and only rematerializes to relieve his murderous itch. While spontaneous, madness-induced civilian murders have ceased completely, the Chainsaw-type Weapon hasn’t slowed his killing spree. 

Honestly, Maka Albarn is tired. In her short life, she's endured her papa's betrayals and the rift it caused in her family, the aftermath of the Original Lord Death's death, the loss of her mother, the loss of her papa to grief, the murders of Joe and the inhabitants of the Jupiter colony…how much more can she take? After the undercover stunt at the casino, Maka decided to hide out in the hangar until she's refreshed, but no amount of cuddling with her new kitten or marathoning old cartoons rejuvenates her. 

Sometimes Kilik calls to check in on her, always under the guise of complaining about Black Star's antics to lure Kid into a fight to prove who's the ultimate God. Eventually Kilik starts to sneak in more tidbits related to Giriko, probably to light a fire in her. Today, he tells her two more people have been found decapitated in their home on Mars, near her papa's home, and all the clues point to Giriko. Maka barely listens, absolutely numb, _scared_ that life continues to go on while she's recuperating. She hasn’t left the hangar since she and Eater returned from the mission, but the universe isn't waiting for her to snap out of her funk.

"Does the Space Force have any clues to Giriko's whereabouts?" she asks when his words finally sink in, gulping. With the recent murders so close in proximity to her papa, could he be in danger? 

"No, and even if they did, the higher ups wouldn't tell us," Kilik responds.

They hang up after a few more minutes. Maka takes her rice cakes and Blair and goes to cuddle with both of them in bed, relieved when the garage door opens and a loud ruckus of Cupcake announces Eater's return from running errands. 

Soon enough, there’s a knock on her door.

“It’s open,” she calls, pulling her comforter to her nose. 

Eater lingers in the doorway, shaking his head at the sight of her. “You’re just like your old man.”

At hearing that, she sits straight up, blood boiling at the comparison to her papa, who is already out flirting with women again. While glad that her papa isn’t drowning in sorrow anymore, she could do without his drunk selfies. “ _WHAT_?”

“It’s not an insult. I mean, you both react to big life changes in the same way." He holds up two fingers, as if counting. "Your mom died, and he became a recluse. You saved the entire universe from madness, and you’re turning into a recluse, too.”

Not wanting to admit he has a valid point, Maka pouts at him, crossing her arms. “Did you pick up those books from the library that I told you to get?”

“Don’t change the subject. But yeah I did.” He tosses her the canvas bag filled with paperback romance novels. “You really do need to get up and get out there again. C’mon, Maka…”

Pretending she can’t hear him, she thumbs through the first book. Surely somewhere within these pages lies a magical cure to stop feelings things for Eater. It has to be here, _has_ to be. “Did you get the kitty litter?”

“Yes, Space Cowgirl, I sure did.”

She waves a dismissive hand at him. “Okay, you may remove yourself from my presence now.”

Sniggering at her, Eater finally walks into her room and sits at the edge of her bed. Blair immediately abandons Maka and meows at Eater, asking for kisses until he does deliver and presses his lips against her forehead. For some reason, Maka's face heats up. 

“Maka, _please_ \- _owwww_ Blair, be gentle with yours paws, babygirl - Maka, let’s get out there and find Giriko and end this. I’ll go by myself, if I have to, but-”

“No!" Maka shouts, not sure if she’s ordering him to stop playing with Blair or if she’s disagreeing with him about leaving the hangar. She can't concentrate. Why is she jealous of a cat? Still, only Maka is ‘baby’, not the cat. "You can't leave. Absolutely not. We’re a team.”

“Exactly. I mean…” Pain twists his face, petting Blair as a distraction. “I kind of thought about leaving without telling you, you know? To go kill him myself…” When Maka's mouth drops open, he holds a hand up as a signal to let him continue. “But I thought about it, like…even if I left, you’d eventually get out there and search for him too, and what if you got to him before I did and something happened to you? I couldn’t forgive myself.”

“I…you’re making too much sense. I can't even be mad at you." Maka pushes the books aside, swinging her legs over the edge of her bed. What motivates her to finally join the land of the living isn’t his awful pep talk, but his interaction with Blair. Maka is jealous and she can’t help it. " _Fine_. I’ll try being functional again, but I won’t be happy about it.”

Maka tries her darndest to be _unhappy_ , but it’s an impossible task when she’s around Eater. From his floofy hair, silly expressions when he thinks he’s not being watched, and tendency to fall asleep if he sits down for more than five minutes, it’s easy for her to be in a good mood. She even talks him into reading aloud from one of her ‘corny, stupid, ridiculous’ romance novels, complete with assigning each character a different voice and accent. Soon enough they’re howling with laughter, and Maka slowly begins to feel like herself. 

Life with Eater is so _good_. If only it could be just the two of them, and no pain existed in this universe, and they weren’t hellbent on finding a serial killer before the Space Force does. But she'll take what she can get, relishing ordering Eater around and having him feed her grapes and sweep the floor under the pretense that, "I'm just so down Eater, I have no energy."

Eater calls her out but indulges her, all at the same time. How can he be so perfect? 

This heaven only lasts two days. 

Around lunchtime on the third day, Maka is perched at the table watching Soul struggle with their newest cooking gadget when she decides to turn on the radio, just to hear a little bit of the news. Expecting the same drone of the midmorning report, she does a double take when a soft, kind female voice interrupts the meteor shower recap. _"Hello, this is Tsubaki Nakatsukasa from Earth."_

At the stove, Eater drops the bowl of freshly spiralized zoodles to the floor in shock. 

“No, _no_ , I don’t like this,” he gasps, an edge of panic in his voice. “Why is she doing this?”

Maka shushes him, turning up the volume. 

" _I know there is a divide between the citizens of Earth and the citizens of Space, but it's time to join together and repopulate the Earth_ ," Tsubaki says firmly, strongly. “ _I want everyone to know about the Evanses and their legacy.”_

"Is this…anarchy?" Maka scratches her chin. "I don't know, but I approve of it and this girl has won my whole heart."

"What's she saying?" Zoodles stick to Eater's house shoes, but he doesn't remove them or worry about cleaning up. He just stands there, dumbstruck, asking Maka to repeat Tsubaki’s speech as if he couldn't hear. 

"She does have a point…why shouldn't the Evanses' story be remembered?” The gears in Maka’s brain begin to turn. Everything seems to be falling into place - the source of madness has been stomped out, only Giriko remains to be captured, and now this girl, this _link_ , to solve the Evanses mystery is practically reaching out to Maka, who can’t help but grin. “All the other victims have memorials. The Evanses should, too."

"I bet they wanted _privacy_ ," Eater grunts, heaving for breaths.

"It's okay," Maka soothes, worry mounting at Eater’s reaction. He must be upset because the Evanses murder was the goriest yet, even worse than her mama's. No one wants to see dead bodies in news articles. She reminds him of this gently, emphasizing that the authorities only release appropriate pictures of the deceased, usually family portraits or official identifications.

"That's not what bothers me." Eater pauses so long Maka begins to wonder if he ever plans to explain. "I guess, uhm, I'm not sure I agree that letting Earth and Space people mix and travel freely between the two is the best idea. I don't think Earth is rehabilitated yet from the first time humanity almost destroyed it.”

Blair jumps into Maka’s lap, wedging herself under Maka’s arm to ask for a hug. “Hmm, you have a point, I guess...”

On the radio, Tsubaki goes on to reveal that she’s the fiancee of one of the deceased - the eldest son, Wes Evans. While she respects their New Lord Death, she doesn’t agree with His decision to uphold his father’s policy of secrecy regarding the citizens of Earth. 

“My brother also fell victim to madness,” she admits, which earns Maka’s admiration. How can Tsubaki talk about this tragedy and not cry? It seems like Maka herself is always crying, which Kilik keeps insisting won’t ebb until she addresses her grief. Maybe he has a point…but Maka doesn’t have the time to deal with it. Not now. “My brother Masamune also committed atrocious murders while under the influence of evil. I lost him, and I can never see him again. I want everyone in the universe to share in my grief. It’s what unites us all, our suffering and our ability to become stronger! I want to tell everyone about Masamune and Wes, and Wes’s parents and younger brother-”

Out of nowhere, Eater dives at the radio and twists the dial until it turns off.

“Hey!” Maka complains, Blair attempting to climb up her sweatshirt. Tearing the kitten away from her, Maka goes over to turn the radio back on. “I was listening to that. I wonder if Kid approved of her doing this?!”

But it’s too late. The broadcast ended, with the news anchor apologizing for the interruption. “It seems we have a talented hacker in our midst,” she laughs nervously. 

“Oh, I guess Kid didn’t approve of this,” Maka says, tapping her foot impatiently. Wow, the drama of it all actually sparks a fire within her, an inferno. Finally, someone else is standing up to Death’s reign, demanding change. A crazy thought pops into Maka’s head - what if she reached out to Tsubaki? But it may be almost impossible, what with the nonexistent communication between Space and Earth. Only those working high up in the Space Force _may_ have the know-how or access to making that happen. 

Suddenly, Maka remembers what her papa said the day she found out he had already known Giriko’s name. “ _Special privilege of being our Lord Death’s Weapon…”_

Bingo. 

“Eater,” Maka singsongs, energy bursting through her like a gunshot. “I think I’m ready to leave the hangar. Let’s go visit my papa!”

Her partner doesn’t even groan and roll his eyes or call her papa a ‘creepy, weird, overly-colonged womanizer’ like he usually does. Still in a daze from Tsubaki’s speech, Eater doesn’t budge until Maka tugs his longsleeve. Hopefully he doesn’t notice the longing in her eyes as Maka asks if he’s paying attention to her. To this day, she still hasn’t gotten to touch him. It’s probably a new universal record: living with someone for this long, fighting alongside them, without accidentally touching at least once. In fact, it seems as though Eater goes out of his way to _not_ touch her, always keeping a respectful distance between them both physically and emotionally. 

Maka tries not to think about that too much.

X

Keeping a secret from Eater proves more challenging than she thought. 

Perhaps she shouldn’t have kept her plan to reach out to Tsuabki a secret, especially after her partner conveyed his suspicion of her sucking up to her papa to borrow his library card. It should be illegal for Eater to _flirt_. 

“You’re such a cute nerd, Maka,” he had teased on their ride home, reaching out to softly tug her pigtail. “I doubt the Space Force library has romance novels.”

She couldn’t come back with a snarky remark because her whole face burned bright and it didn’t simmer down until… well, it hasn’t yet. The thermometer tells Maka she doesn’t have a fever, leaving her to conclude that she’s suffering some kind of psychosomatic symptoms from a lack of physical contact with Eater. Then she thinks she’s paranoid, convinced Eater’s gaze lingers on her longer than it should, or that he sneaks glances to see what she’s up to when he has no business doing so.

Maka is a terrible liar, and he must sense it. 

Good thing she doesn’t have to hold this secret close for long. Within hours of Maka sending an email to Tsubaki, after days of agonizing over the wording and sentence structure of her message, Maka’s cell phone alerts of a new email. Nervous, she opens it and reads greedily: 

_Hi Maka, thank you for reaching out to me. It means the world to me that you want to hear my story. I would love to invite you to my home so we can talk about my brother, my fiance, and his family. I live in the Okayama Prefecture in the country of Japan on Earth…_

Squealing, Maka skips down the narrow hallway to Eater's room (broom closet mansion, as he calls it), knocking before throwing the door open. A bored-looking Eater stares at her from his bed where he's sitting cross-legged against the wall. 

"I got an email from Tsubaki!"

The news literally jolts him - he thrashes about as if she had pushed him. "What! Why? _How_?" 

Quickly, Maka explains how her research using her papa's library card at the Space Force headquarters led her to finding Tsubaki's email in Earth’s directory. Turns out that Kid keeps meticulously updated records and _does_ keep track of the whereabouts of _all_ humanity. "She was close to the Evanses! She was-" 

Eater clears his throat. "Wes's fiancée, yeah. She was on the radio last week." 

"Yeah. Isn't this great? She invited us to meet her. Maybe she knows something about Giriko?" 

Eater touches his forehead as if feeling for a wound. “I don’t think she would. We should just leave her alone. Better let her forget about Wes Evans.” He gnaws at his lip, trouble stitching his brows together. "Listen Maka, I have something to tell you-"

Her mind churns out ideas faster than ever before. Aside from visiting Death's liar, which was somewhere dry and hot and dusty like Mars except sunnier, Maka has never been to Earth before. “While we’re down there, maybe Tsubaki can show us around Earth! It’ll be so nice, like in the old movies where people have picnics outside.”

Shaking his head, Eater is quick to burst her bubble. “Earth is really big Maka, it would take years to visit every place on it, if that’s even possible. Tsubaki can’t be our tour guide. That’s not how Earth works.”

“You’re being a real downer,” she says playfully in an attempt to lighten the mood, but he's not having it. His body language stiffens, his frown deepening so much Maka worries he'll get premature wrinkles. "Eater, aren't you excited to visit Earth at least? 

“Uhh… Not really." All of a sudden he looks like a scared, lonely kid who lost his mom at the supermarket. "This is happening too fast. Why do you want to go talk to _her_?”

Maka repeats that Tsubaki, as Wes’s fiancee, must have been close enough to know family secrets. The reports claim she even found the bodies and managed to escape before someone tried trapping her inside by setting fire to the house. “She said she’ll tell me more about the Evans family and the crime scene. I really do think they’re important to figuring out Giriko, Eater-”

“I don’t think it matters anymore.” Her partner’s voice cracks ever so slightly, just enough for her throat to close empathetically, too. “Maka, you always ask me if I think souls come back, and I really, really, _really_ don’t think they do.” With a defeated sigh, Eater crawls off his bed and stands in front of her, hands reaching out to rest on her shoulders - but they stop midday and drop to his sides. “Especially the Evanses. They’re dead. The best we can do is hope their souls are at peace, wherever it is that souls go.” 

An array of emotions course through her, all of them piercing shades of betrayal and rage. How could he shoot down her only hope like this when he was the one pushing to get her out there searching for Giriko again? “But how can you know that for sure, Eater? You can’t! There’s no way. I even asked Kid about souls, if my mama's soul could come back, and he said he couldn’t tell me, but I got a feeling that he-”

“Sometimes feelings are wrong,” Eater interrupts lowly, wincing apologetically once he realizes how harsh the words come across. 

But Maka doesn’t want any of his pity. “No, _you’re_ wrong!”

The louder she is, the quieter he becomes. “I know you miss your mom Maka, but I don’t think she’s coming back.” 

He says it so gently it hurts. But she's fragile, and even that breaks her. She's crying before she realizes it. On the playground in grade school, all the other kids would call her a cry baby whenever she would get upset about staining her new dress or slipping off the monkey bars, but Eater doesn't mock her pain at all. 

“God, I’m so sorry Maka. Don't cry, okay?” Desperation drives him to snatch a blanket from his bed and wrap it around her shoulders. “I take it back - maybe souls _do_ come back!”

She shakes her head miserably. "Kid said they don't. That’s the only thing he could tell me for sure.” 

"Kid's a liar," he says soothingly. Strangely enough, it does console her a little bit. He says, “In a way, I do understand Tsubaki…she wants to remember the Evanses and honor them. But, to me, dead people are just that…dead.” He gets a faraway look in his eye. “And bringing their killer to justice is the only way to honor their memory. Don’t you want that for your mom, too?”

Maka blinks at him, the puzzle pieces sort of fitting together. “You want revenge, too,” she breathes. “Why?”

In retrospect, she should have realized that Eater didn’t answer her last question. “You're right, I do want revenge. He’s hurt too many people. I want his head.”

She stands there, dazed, and openly watches the muscles in his temple jump the more he clenches his jaw. If she could just reach other and touch him, maybe some of that heat and anger will transfer into her and she won’t have to lose him to this crazy suicide mission of his. 

“We both want justice,” she begins carefully, “but I want to save others from suffering, too.”

“Maybe that’s the difference between us." Eater shrugs coldly, transforming one fingernail into a scythe blade and pretending to drag it across his own neck. "I just want to kill him.” 

Silence. Maka shifts her weight from side to side, willing the tension between them to dissipate. “So…you won’t go to Earth with me?”

“No…” Even regretful, Eater is handsome. Maka hates herself for being so _selfish_ and wanting him beside her at all times. “I’m sorry Maka, I can’t.”

That’s the end of the conversation. Maka hands back his blanket, retreats to her room, and rereads Tsubaki’s email countless times before responding:

_Perfect. I look forward to meeting you. We’ll be there on Wednesday…_

By Tuesday, the smaller parts of her plan have all come together, including stocking up on fuel and supplies and pet food for Blair just in case they're on Earth longer than expected. Maka is able to relax the night before the trip, lounging on the couch with Eater and Blair and dying of jealousy as the two cuddle and bond while he keeps Maka a safe distance away. 

As she heads for bed, she tells Eater she loves him, because it feels right and she wants to hear it back. The surprise that paints his face confuses her, but it's worth the second of insecurity when he bursts into a vivid grin. "I love you too, Maka. G'night."

In the morning, with her pulse racing, Maka pilots her spaceship out of the hangar, Eater strapped into the passenger seat and under the impression that they're going to visit her papa. But when Maka flies past Mars, Eater begins to tap his fingers against his door. Judging by his confused expression, his thoughts are jumbled. Maka can't predict how he's going to react, hoping he goes along with her plan once they reach Earth. 

“Where are we going?” the suspicion in his voice hurts Maka.

“To Earth…"

In her periphery, she sees him blink in shock as if she’d slapped him. He's in a state of pure silence for five minutes before he can speak again. "Maka, I can't go there. I can't. I can't. I _can't_."

She pleads with him, _begs_ him - “please, it’s just for a while, a little bit. There has to be a reason why Giriko went overkill on the Evanses. She’s our only hope. Please, let’s go, go with me” - but Eater refuses to make eye contact with her. It hurts more than it should, as if he had told her they can’t be partners or even friends anymore. 

“Maka, you lied to me,” he says hoarsely, his pain palpable. 

She squints apologetically, shamefully, wanting to disappear. “When you say it like that, what I did sounds really bad.”

“It feels bad, too.” Eater rubs his eyes, pressing his palms into his eye sockets as if to prevent tears from flowing. “Maka, I can’t go back, I can’t...you tricked me...lied.”

“I’m sorry,” she rasps, crying. God, she’s always crying and getting ahead of herself, her ambition blinding her to the needs of others. Like when Black Star’s dad Sid died and she didn’t realize until much later on that her friend needed someone, or when she grilled Kid about his deceased father’s policies. Sure, Kid is a God, but he has feelings too, and she should have been more considerate…

Just like she should have been more careful with Eater’s feelings.

Why does it feel like Maka is losing someone all over again?

Scared of spinning out of control, both emotionally and in regards to piloting the spaceship, Maka prepares to land at the closest meteor, a lone one with a huge parking lot and a convenience store with missing letters in its neon sign. 

It's the gas station where they first met. 

“Drop me off here,” Eater says gruffly, nose stuffed, opening the door before the ship rolls to a full stop and hops off. The door slamming behind him sounds final, more like a ‘goodbye’ than a ‘see ya, space cowgirl’. 

X

Maka refuses to cry. 

She does, however, email Tsubaki and asks to reschedule their meeting because she’s suddenly under the weather. It’s not a lie this time - in fact, she vows to never lie again if she can help it.

A raw, deep ache settles in her chest, a spiraling sense of loss, and Maka Albarn absolutely _hates_ losing.

When a funny thought crosses her mind, her first instinct is to turn to tell Eater, but of course, he’s no longer around. Each time this happens, Maka swallows the sour lump in her throat and goes about her life. Confusion settles in as the days go by, and she can’t explain why her heart hurts. She goes through the motions: wake up, shower, listen to the radio, check the security cameras, feed Blair, eat a few times in between, sleep, repeat. It doesn’t occur to her that this is the first time in half a year that she’s been without Eater until she has to empty the litterbox - that had been _his_ chore. They had been together nonstop, except for the times when one of them was asleep, and even that’s not entirely true because sometimes they had napped together. 

And now he’s gone. It’s truly been like ripping a bandaid off - no, more like ripping skin off. 

She misses him. 

What’s worse is that she has no way to communicate with him because he had left her the same way he met her - with nothing but the clothes on his back and his backpack. No matter how desperately she wants to repent for trying to trick him into going to Earth, it’s impossible. 

The universe is so big…so lonely. He could be anywhere. 

Guilt threatens to make Maka vomit on more than one occasion. Eater’s reaction to going to Earth... ah, well his reaction seemed too real, like the subject of meeting Tsubaki hit too close to home. At that thought, jealousy shoots through Maka like electricity before she decides to calm down and not jump to conclusions. Maybe Eater doesn't trust Tsubaki for some reason. He had always had a derisive tone whenever the subject of Earth citizens came up - maybe he resents them? 

Whatever his reasons, Maka should have treated him gently. She’s always forgetting she doesn’t have to be tough or always get her way. The irony is that she’s not allowing herself to cry now.

On her scheduled day to meet with Tsubaki, she sets off toward Earth, her heart beating like a rhythmless bass drum. She passes through Earth's invisible barrier without a hitch, so effortlessly she begins to wonder if there's a barrier at all. Making a mental note to ask Tsubaki, Maka prepares for landing, awestruck by the seas of blues and vibrant greens on Earth's surface. It's nothing at all like the red-dirt-packed Mars she's known her entire life. Nothing like the metal floors of the Jupiter colony, or the perpetual storm raging on its swirly surface. Part of Maka feels unworthy of even looking at Earth's beauty, especially when she lands her spaceship on Tsubaki's property in the midst of patch of tall grass. 

Hopping out of her ship, Maka exhales to ease her nerves, using her hand as a visor to take in the scenery. _Oh_ , even the air is crisp and fresh, much better than breathing out in Space, which technically isn’t breathing, since there is no oxygen out there. Spotting a house on the horizon, Maka begins her trek, her feet unused to walking through grass or on uneven, soft dirt.

The wind suddenly blows, caressing Maka's scalp and carrying a kind voice calling her name. Up ahead, Tsubaki is a vision of grace, standing tall at the entrance of her house and waving Maka over eagerly. By the time Maka walks up the steps of the porch, she's sweating profusely and exhausted, but it doesn't stop her from embracing Tsubaki as if they were two friends reuniting after too many years apart. 

"It's so great to meet you, Maka!" Tsubaki has kind eyes and a soft smile, despite all she's been through. "Please, come inside, come inside…"

When they're settled on pillows on the living floor by a low table, teacups and photo albums in front of them, Tsubaki reaches out and holds Maka's hands. "When I read your email, I cried. But it wasn't because I was sad! It was because I felt like my prayers were answered. Finally, someone wants to listen about the people I've lost. I don't feel so alone anymore."

Maka squeezes Tsubaki's hand, promising herself to be strong for this girl she barely met, but already respects and admires dearly. Remembering her vow to be more open, Maka explains that's she's a cop's daughter, grown with the expectation and wish to follow in her parents' footsteps to protect the citizens and the law, to keep the peace…that is, until her mama died. All of her memories pour out: mama’s long dark hair, how she snorted when she laughed, her kindness, her fierceness, her hugs. The news that not all the pieces of her body had been found. The funeral. The crying. 

"I'm so sorry Maka, I can't imagine how painful that must have been." Tsubaki is so kind it stings Maka. Gentleness has always hurt more than mean words or betrayals. "The loss of a family member really does change your outlook on life forever. I lost my brother, Masamune. "

“I want to hear about him,” Maka says, suddenly desperate to bring him back to life for Tsubaki. 

“Well, we weren’t best friends, but we loved each other,” she begins, immediately explaining that she, the second born, had inherited her family’s multi-form weapon ability instead of her brother. There had always been a rift between them because of this fact. Tsubaki had felt as though she had taken away his birthright, and went out of her way to make him feel special. But, he had interpreted it as pity, and grew to hate her for it. “We never understood each other. Eventually he distanced himself from the family, and I think that’s what made him susceptible to madness…”

It’s cruel how first Tsubaki lost her brother, then her fiance, both to madness. Masamune _sought_ out Arachnophobia, aiming to join them, and went insane with murderous hatred toward everyone. A small town died at his hands, and he, in turn, eventually died at the hands of the Space Force. 

“I know people will be angry at me for keeping my brother’s memory alive, because of all the awful things he did, but I don’t care. He wasn’t in his right mind when he did those things. That wasn’t really _him_.”

“He was a victim of madness too, but people don’t feel bad for murderers,” Maka agrees, feeling so _sorry_ for Masamune, for Tsubaki. It’s not right that her brother is demonized for his madness. 

“Exactly! I want people to know my brother as I knew him, before his soul became corrupt…”

Tsubaki recounts her first memory: Masamune playing house with her, lining up baby dolls on Tsubaki’s bed and helping her feed them bottles. He had even changed diapers and pretended to run to the store for more formula. 

“I don’t remember why I wanted to take care of so many babies, but Masamune didn’t even question it. It’s my favorite memory ever, and I’ll never forget it.” Tsubaki huffs angrily, as if daring fate to make her forget. “And as grumpy as my brother was, could you believe even Wes managed to worm his way onto his good side?”

“He sounds like he was a good guy,” Maka says politely. What else is she supposed to say? She cannot speak ill of the dead, especially those she never met in life. 

“Yes! Wes was - well, he was like this cup of tea. He was always warm, Maka, and he could comfort anyone because he had this way of understanding people no matter who they were. He loved everyone he met, and they loved him back. He was so _gentle_ , and truly intelligent. He wanted to make a difference in the world."

Tsubaki raises her teacup to her lips, sipping quietly. Maka wonders how she manages to hold her hands steady with all that grief tearing her apart. 

“And then there was Soul.” Tsubaki chokes on tears and laughs, wiping at her eyes desperately. “Where do I start with him? He was Wes’s little sour, pouty brother. Wes _loved_ Soul deeply, Maka, you should have seen them together. Even though Wes was ten years older, they were best friends. Soul would deny it, of course, because he pretended to be too cool for emotions, but he admired Wes. Soul was also the oddball of the family because he had weird quirks, like playing sad and dark music or wearing all black. It was funny seeing him and Wes side by side because Wes outshone the sun and Soul was as gloomy as a rainy day."

Maka imagines everything Tsubaki tells her about the Evans brothers, pictures Wes traveling a thousand miles to visit his brother during holiday breaks in college or taking time off work to spend time with him. Mr. and Mrs. Evans were busy musicians too and often left Soul in the care of a nanny or enrolled him in boarding school, but they loved their sons and took vacations together often. When Tsubaki came into their lives and joined their gatherings too, she truly felt like part of the family. They had even extended their welcome to Masamune, who _almost_ accepted, but decided to leave town in search of Arachnophobia... 

There is abrupt silence. Maka waits for Tsubaki to go off on another rant, but realizes that's it, the story is over because the Evanses are gone and so is her brother. 

"That’s why they all died,” Tsubaki laments, taking a deep, long breath. “Wes figured out Arachnophobia’s brainwashing methods right after my brother died, by reading his journals, and that’s why Giriko killed him. He didn’t want Wes to go to the Space Force with this information. Wes’s family was collateral damage...”

There are no words to describe how Maka feels right now - horrible? Disgusting? Regretful? Sinful? Not only had she subjected Eater to the pain of being lied to, but she had come here seeking answers to a mystery that didn’t exist. Of course Giriko’s murders don’t have a pattern or make any sense. And even when they do, it leads her nowhere. He’s literally mad. Even if Maka had known that Wes Evans had discovered Arachnophobia's plan to overthrow Death, would it have made a difference? 

The conversation backtracks again, Tsubaki reminiscing about how she and Wes met at a museum and fell in love at first sight, their first date, her first time meeting his family, his first time in Japan, and _that_ day, when the Evanses died. When Tsubaki fumbles at that part again, Maka insists that she didn't come here to reopen old wounds and that they can talk about something else, something happier, but Tsubaki _wants_ to tell someone her story, all of it, including the ugly parts. 

“I hadn’t heard from Wes at all that day. He usually sent me a sweet message even if he was busy, but he hadn't contacted me. When he didn’t answer my calls, I went to his house…” She brings her cup to her lips, blowing gently, her quivering hand betraying her even tone. "I thought it was weird the door was open," she whispers. "I let myself in. I found Wes first, in the foyer…"

It was a bloodbath. For Tsubaki, it had been like stepping into a nightmare. Rationality had told her she could do nothing for her fiance, but she had checked anyway, only to find it was neck and head were no longer connected. She had rushed up the stairs to check on her future parent in laws, but they too suffered the same fate. On her way back downstairs she had smelled smoke. 

“I swear I heard footsteps in the house.” Tsubaki shivers, rubbing her arms. “I think the murderer was still there, but wasn’t aware that I had arrived. And when the house went up in flames…”

Tsubaki says she did the only thing she could do to save her life - jump out of a second story window to safety.

For a moment Maka can’t remember how to breathe, her own limbs and neck itching as if a ghost were trying to saw at her. She can’t even imagine the pain. All she wants to do is swathe Tsubaki in a blanket and protect her from the cruel universe. 

Bravely, Tsubaki smiles sadly and picks up one of the photo albums. “Would you like to see my pictures?”

“Uhm, no thanks.” Tears roll down Maka's cheeks when she blinks. Sorrow is infectious, and she is beyond susceptible. “It - it would be too…I mean, it feels too personal to look at your pictures. It feels invasive.”

Tsubaki’s smile is understanding, laced with sorrow. “Sometimes I want to keep Wes a secret, so that I can think his laughs were only for me and no one else can taint my memory of him…but I realized that when I die, he’ll die for a second time. He’ll keep dying the more we don’t remember him. And I don’t want that. So I want to go public about him and the other Evanses, despite Kid’s wishes.”

“You’ve met the New Lord Death too?”

“Everyone on Earth does. So does any new blood he brings into the world from space, any new animal he brings back from extinction…we all know him as Kid.”

Something tugs at the depths of her memories, something that screams for her to make the connection, but Maka loses her grip and it vanishes before it fully blooms. “The name suits him, I think. He’s…childlike. I think the universe needs that right now. Innocence.” 

Bravery inspires Maka to take Tsubaki up on viewing her photo albums. Tsubaki glows with pride and glee, opening the first book and handing it to Maka. The first picture is of Tsubaki and her older brother as children playing kickball, her brother missing a tooth and Tsubaki smiling shyly. 

"It's my favorite picture of Masamune. This was before…before his personality changed."

And then Tsubaki flips the page to show Maka her other favorite picture, her engagement photo. 

Maka feels like someone punched her in the throat. Wes, with his blonde hair and dark blue eyes, resembles Eater too closely for it to be a simple coincidence. Though his nose is thinner, his face longer and more chiseled, his picture is almost like staring at a grown-up replica of a more confident, charming Eater. 

"You said…that Wes had a younger brother," Maka breathes, resting her elbow on the table for support. "Can I see him?" 

"Definitely! He and I were good friends too, and we took many pictures together…"

Time seems to slow down as Tsubaki flips a few more pages, ever so slowly, and the colors on the other photographs blur together. Turning the photo album so Maka has a clear view, Tsubaki beams fondly. "Soul played the piano. This is after one of his recitals." Sadness edges into her voice. "I think it was his last one, actually..."

No. Soul and Eater _can't_ be the same person. One is dead, and the other isn't. There is nothing in between, but... none of this makes sense, because Soul and Eater look identical, right down to the hint of unhappiness in his eyes. How common are white hair and brown eyes? The only difference between the boys is their clothing. Soul is wearing a black tuxedo in this portrait of him standing on stage by a piano, and Eater usually wears a combination of the same three long-sleeves and ripped jeans because he had said he didn't like to carry a lot of things in his backpack. He had been a nomad before moving in with Maka, after all. 

Tsubaki shows Maka another picture of Soul, this time of him smirking mischievously at the camera, one corner of his lips not hiking up evenly with the other. Maka _knows_ it's Eater because her heart flips involuntarily. It's her favorite smile of his, dimple and all. Her heart aches at the realization that Eater has been living with this grief all by himself. “I know this may sound crazy, but how do you know Soul is…dead?”

“Oh no, don’t worry, I thought and asked that question too!” Tsubaki refills their tea cups, eyes unfocused as if reliving the memory. "It was an ugly crime scene, and with the fire on top of that… But, with scientific advances…"

“There was a DNA test,” Maka finishes for her, trying to solve the puzzle in her head without giving away her suspicions. “That’s how they identified my mama, too.”

Tsubaki reaches over and hugs Maka, hugs her so tight Maka thinks she won’t be able to breathe ever again. “Life is hard, Maka. It’s so hard.”

Gulping down a lump, Maka decides she has to be brave - for Tsubaki and her brother, for _Soul_. “So they identified Soul’s body that way, too? DNA?”

“No, actually, they never found a body. But they did find a puddle of his blood in his bedroom on the third story, and ahh…” Tsubaki trembles, and Maka holds her to keep her from falling apart. “Well, no one could have survived losing that much blood.”

The Space Force assumed he had perished in the fire, and that had been that. Neighbors had reported a Chainsaw-type Weapon running out of the front door, cackling as the Evans estate went down in flames. 

“I know it’s morbid to talk about all this, but I think about it all the time,” Tsubaki admits, regaining her composure. “I think the more I tell people about it, the better I’ll feel. I think it’s my mind’s way of trying to numb the memories, if that makes sense.”

Maybe that’s what Kilik means when he tells Maka she has to process her grief. Suddenly, all of her loved ones faces flash across her mind: her papa’s red, red hair and goofy smile, Black Star’s thin eyebrows and star tattoos, Kilik’s straight, perfect teeth and deep voice. 

Eater, and his dimple. 

Maka mouths his name, to test if it fits on her lips. _Soul Evans_. Not Eater, but Soul. Soul. Soul. 

Her phone pings from within her fanny pack. Automatically retrieving it, her breath stops short when she looks at her alerts. 

A message from Death, with the subject line that reads: _keep him close_.

Upon opening, Maka realizes it contains two words and no explanation aside from a map of Earth: _Lost Island_. 

Maka’s hands tremble. The word blurs until they're completely out of focus. Why is Eater on Earth, of all places? Could he be in danger? 

Tsubaki calls out Maka's name, but Maka can't react, too stunned by this revelation. She is not sure how Kid knows that she learned the truth about Eater's real identity only a minute before, but obviously he doesn't feel compelled to keep his promise to Eater anymore. And he has just given Maka a lead to find Soul Evans, who's on a suicide mission. 

"Tsubaki, I have to go. I think I can save one of the Evanses. Maybe souls can't be brought back from death, but they can be saved from looking for it!" 


	8. keep him close

Snowflakes drift from the grey sky. The tip of Maka’s nose stings with cold. When she opens her mouth to _ooo_ at Lost Island’s beauty, her breath comes out in a visible white puff. She holds out her hand to catch a snowflake, but it melts too soon in the palm of her hand. Like most precious things in life, it’s fleeting, but Maka is glad she got to enjoy it while it lasted.

With a final glance back at her spaceship Cupcake, Maka treads off into the white landscape, not sure where the Earth ends and the sky begins because snow covers everything. It all blends together, the tall mountains and hills both providing hiding spaces for her in case she runs into danger but also obstructing her view.

She wishes Eater were with her to teach her about all the things she doesn’t know about Earth. Thinking back, it makes sense why he knew obscure details about Earth, why he always seemed to hold it and its citizens in contempt. As happy as his family probably was, life on Earth had ended horribly for him, souring the entire planet for him. The privilege of living on Earth and personally knowing Death and His Heir had not helped Eater after his family's murder. Maka closes her eyes, imagining Eater in Death’s perfect, perfect chamber, begging Kid to bring his family back to life and Kid remorsefully shaking his head _no_.

Maka gulps down tears, afraid to shed a single tear in case it leads to a whole crying session. She doesn’t have time for that right now. How in the world is she supposed to find Eater under these conditions? X had marked the spot on an island north of some place called Alaska, so Maka had headed that way. Flying around the island had helped her spot a beaten-up aircraft crudely landed near the base of the mountain – a sign that Eater had been piloting – but now that she’s on the ground, she’s lost her sense of direction. Up is up and down is down, but she doesn’t need to go in those directions.

How long can she survive in the cold, anyway? Good thing she had prepared extra clothing, but she’s not sure how thoroughly three layers of shirts and two jackets will protect her from this weather.

“Eater!” she calls out, her voice making the snow blanketing the mountain quiver. A pile of it tumbles down, reminding her of flying asteroid. “Okay… maybe I shouldn’t scream,” she tells herself, and continues to set out. Twice she ends up back at her spaceship, so she decides to head out in the totally opposite direction until the sunlight dwindles.

“Is this normal, Eater?” Maybe talking to him will bring him back. “Is the sun supposed to be that color?” Hues of pink and orange and purple watercolor the sky, fading to a blue so pretty it tugs at Maka’s heartstrings. It gives away to darkness, but nowhere nearly as dark as Space.

When the wind howling between the trees finally begins to scare her, she tries walking back to her spaceship but realize she _can’t_. She’s lost. Biting down panic, she beats herself up for not being more careful. No need to panic, she just needs to plan for the worst. Eater had mentioned animals on Earth – were they dangerous? If she comes across one, how should she react? She has her gun in her fanny back, amongst a few snacks and water filter… but the idea of shooting one of Earth’s creatures revolts her. They were here first, and she’s trespassing on their land.

Maka cups her hands around her mouth. “Eater! Eater! Are you here? I’m sorry! I’M _SORRY_!”

Her message echoes away. Maka hopes it reaches him somehow, carried by wind.

Frustrated, Maka scrunches up her face and glares at the sky. Why had Kid sent her here without providing more details? Of course, he had claimed he couldn’t interfere in Humanity’s affairs, but now he’s meddling in her life…she guesses meddling in one human’s life versus the lives of many is okay to him. Deciding to turn in for the night, Maka eventually finds a hole in one of the mountain walls and slides inside for shelter, finding that it’s warm and dry.

“Stupid Kid,” she gripes to herself, curling up into a fetal position on the hard ground. The smell of Earth soothes her, if only a little. If what Eater said it true and Kid can hear everything, she hopes he's listening to her right now. “Thanks for your vague clues, Kid. No wonder Eater doesn’t like you.”

But Maka also feels sorry for Kid…he had lost his father and inherited the weight of the universe, all without warning. It goes to prove that Death is inescapable…but if she can protect her loved ones from leaving before their time, she’ll never stop fighting.

 _“May Death never stop you_ ,” floats into her head out of nowhere. She drifts off repeating those words to herself, sleeping in short bursts, jerked awake at odd intervals by the sound of twigs snapping somewhere in the forest. Without the moon out to illuminate the Earth, it's too dark for Maka to make out anything in the distance. 

She'll have to wait for sunrise. 

"Eater!" she calls for him again, but he doesn't answer. 

X

Fitful hours later, Maka wakes to a faint, grayish blue light painting the sky. For a moment she’s not sure what pulled her away from her dream about swinging at the playground with her mama, but the steady sound of slow footsteps trudging through the snow piques her interest. Looking out into the forest, she guesses it's almost dawn and wonders if she should crawl deeper into her hole. She's just about to retreat when a tall figure comes into view, his matching black, thick coat and headband a stark comparison to his white hair.

“Eater!” Her voice comes out in a whisper, the cold having dried out her throat. He must have heard her, because he stops and glances around to investigate. Hope bursting through her, she keeps yelling as she crawls out of her hole, the air frigid burning her face. “Eater! Eater!”

She watches him carefully, greedily, memorizing how his eyes light up at the sight of her, one corner of his mouth climbing higher than the other. “Maka?”

They meet halfway, Maka jumping into the air and Eater catching her easily. While it’s not the skin-to-skin contact she’s been longing for, she’ll take it. She almost digs her face into the crook of his neck because she wants to _touch_ him...this isn’t the time nor the place. Will it ever be? She’s so, so selfish, just wants to touch him. Maybe when they're safe and warm she'll finally be able to hold his hand. 

Eater twirls her around, holds her tightly, desperately. And then he puts her on the ground, hands on her shoulders. “Maka, are you really here right now? Is it really you?” 

Ohh, in the white reflection of the snow, his eyes are so red. Maka wraps her arms around his waist to physically restrain herself from brushing a finger across his nose and eyebrows, maybe trace the curve of his cupid’s bow, too. 

"Yep! Are you really _you_?" She doesn't mean for it to come out like that, not when she knows his real name, his real past. 

Thankfully Eater doesn't catch on to her double meaning. “Who else would I be? I think only the dead don’t come back, Maka. I’m not dead...yet.”

Now there is no convincing herself that Eater isn't on a suicide mission. All the signs had been there, and she hadn't picked up on any of them. "Don't say stuff like that. I won't let anything bad happen to you."

"And I won't let anything bad happen to you." Eater swallows thickly. "I'm sorry I left. I just couldn't go see her. Tsubaki, I mean. I…don't like to see people cry."

Maka is quiet, deciding whether she should out him about his identity or wait for him to come clean. Then she turns down his apology. "You have nothing to be sorry for! I was wrong to lie to you...I don’t even know how to explain it to you. I just wanted answers, and it blinded me. I’m so so sorry my actions hurt you.”

Eater cups her cheek, his leather gloves frosted over and making her shiver from the cold. “I appreciate that, Maka."

She removes his hand and leads him to her hole in the wall of the mountain so they can warm up. Although thankful that she earned a laugh from him, she can't help but blush - did she say something silly?

"Maka, this is called a cave. Doesn't it remind you of that passageway at the casino?" 

"Oh, I guess it does…” She tilts her head thoughtfully. “What about spiders?" 

"Uh, yeah…let's not think about that."

She and Eater huddle deep enough in the cave to keep warm, but close enough to the entrance that sunlight reaches them. Maka holds his hand clumsily through their gloves, wishing they were home or on Mars or anywhere but here in this strange place. No gloves, no coats, no snow. Only them in the darkness of Space. Never did she think she'd miss its emptiness and familiarity…

"After you left, I was going to hitchhike back to your hangar, but I was too mad," Eater admits, pulling his knees close to his chest. "I missed you, though. And, after you found out who I really was from talking to Tsubaki, I didn't think you'd want me back. I wasn’t exactly honest with you..."

"I'll always want you back," she reassures. “I’m not mad. I have no reason to be mad... You said you might tell me your name one day, and I believed you. I never doubted that you were a good person.”

They listen to the wind together, basking in each other’s company. Maka knows this serenity is too precious to last forever. A sense of finality lurks nearby, maybe just beyond those glittering snow-covered trees the morning sunlight touches, but Maka basks in their _now_ before what is coming finds them.

It comes all too soon when Eater takes a deep, long breath. “It must have been hard talking to Tsubaki.”

Maka nods, chin quivering. "Mhm. She told me so much about her family, I feel as though I've met them… But it's not fair, Eater. Why do bad things happen to good people?" 

"I don't know," he replies hollowly. "I don't think even Death knows…" She can almost hear his thoughts buzzing nervously in his head. When he speaks, his words are fragile: "Did she tell you about the Evanses?”

She squeezes his hand. Oh God, here it comes, the conversation she had been dreading. No, _no_ , she doesn't want to talk about her meeting with Tsubaki and see him cry. Part of her considers lying, but then she remembers her vow to be honest. "Yes, and she showed me pictures."

"So…” He winces, choking up. “You know?" 

"Yes, Soul." It already hurts so bad, like chewing on glass. "I know. I'm so, so, _so_ sorry about..." 

This moment is worse than Maka imagined. Instead of weeping, Eater - Soul? - covers his eyes with his hands in a dignified way. Hiding his grief. Maka doesn’t think she can grip his hand any tighter but she manages, afraid to lose him somehow. When he reburries the pain and looks at her, a dead look glazes his eyes, probably playing the faraway memory in his head like a horror movie on repeat. "I was home. In bed. I didn't even hear anything until Giriko came to my room."

Maka wraps her arms around him, swearing to protect him. Just talking about losing him makes her worry they're tempting fate. "How did you even _live_?"

"I steeled myself so I wouldn't lose too much blood. You know, with my weapon ability.” He taps on his chest. “I definitely have the scar to show for it…I think I passed out because I came to from the smoke and heat from the fire."

As Maka suspected, Soul had called to Death for help, and Kid had answered but could not grant his wish to bring back Wes and his sweet violin’s song, his mother and her lullabies, or his father and his cello’s harmonies. But Kid _did_ gift Soul a new life...a new start in Space, where no one would know his name or look at him with pity for losing his entire family. He was a no one, as he had always felt in a family of renowned musicians.

“I regret being jealous of Wes for being such a great violinist,” Soul laments. “He was the one who always got first chair in the symphony and won awards. I was the one bringing home nice-try trophies and being the alternate. But... I look back and feel like I wasted my time being self conscious of my skills and worrying about not living up to my family’s standards. It was hard to accept their love. And now it’s too late.”

Soul pauses to breathe, Maka also mirroring how his chest rises and falls. She realizes he had never dreamed of being here again, probably had told himself he would never return to such a painful place…

In a whisper, he admits he came back to Earth to die. 

“Eater – _Soul_ , no!” She tucks an arm around his to anchor him down. “I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you!”

He shrugs in typical Eater fashion, as if dying is no big deal. “After I decided I shouldn’t go back to your hangar, I went back to the casino to find clues about where Giriko might be. Turns out Arachnophobia’s old base was here, so I stole a ship…”

“You came to fight to the death,” Maka accuses, the revelation raising her blood pressure. “You were giving up!”

His gaze is so fierce it stings. “What was I supposed to do with the rest of my life? Just travel around all homeless and wait for Tsubaki to find out I’m alive? It would just break her heart again when I died for real. So I might as well put my life to good use and bring down Giriko.”

“Eater, _no_.” 

Suddenly, he breaks into a grin, a devilish one that brings out his dimple. A vivid confidence reaches his eyes. “You’re right. I want to keep fighting. You helped me realize that I want to fight to protect others, not just get revenge. So, Maka -- let’s take him down. Together, once and for all. You and me. That is… if you’ll still have me as your partner.” It’s an offer she can't refuse. A dream. _Of course_ she wants to be by his side, through the good and bad, through mourning and elation, everything between victory and defeat. A wide grin pinches her cheeks, relief flooding her at hearing that his will to carry on hasn’t been broken. 

“Look at the beauty out there, Maka. The sky is so _blue_. Cloudless. The sun is out, and the air is cool and fresh. This is my favorite kind of weather. It makes me so happy…” he lapses into silence, a faint, peaceful smile on his face. “Life was so rough after that day. I kept thinking about Wes with his eyes opening but staring at nothing and I had trouble seeing the good in life or finding reasons to exist. But this perfect weather… I’m so glad I’m alive to experience it. I’m happy I’m here, and that you’re here, and that the universe doesn’t seem so big and lonely anymore.”

All Maka can do is hold him. Somehow, this Soul is a stranger to her, and she tries to find bits and pieces of the Eater she has become fond of…but the more she thinks about it, the more it makes sense. Eater had this sense of permanent sorrow, of doubt, like the Soul who lived on Earth. And now he’s a whole different person with the same trauma and insecurities, and he’s so _strong_.

“I’m glad I didn’t die that day,” Soul continues, tugging her pigtail gently - a tender gesture she’s grown accustomed to and craves. "And I guess it wasn't my time to go, because I found the base but not Giriko."

A fossilized spider had been the only clue that Arachnophobia ever inhabited the small, dilapidated shack hidden deep within the woods. He pulls it out of his pocket to show her, Soul had kept it as a reminder that the dead leaves imprints and he definitely possesses the power to overcome his demons...especially his recently acquired fear of spiders. 

“Let’s go home,” Maka grins, pulling him up by the arm and guiding him out of the cave. She’s seen enough of Earth, wants to cuddle with Blair and hopefully Eater - _Soul -_ while bingeing old sitcoms.

Soul miraculously guides them back to Maka’s spacecraft with only her vague, semi-sure descriptions of her aerial view before she landed when she first arrived and where the sun was positioned in the sky while she did so.

Never has Maka been so excited to fly into the nothingness of Space. 

“Hold on, I gotta take a leak...”

Tactless, crude Eater – _Soul_ , Maka thinks admiringly as he disappears behind a tree a few yards away. It’s going to take a while to get used to calling him ‘Soul’, if he even wants to be known by his real name. She should ask. And she should also ask why he chose the nickname ‘Eater’, why he didn’t choose a more common name so he wouldn’t stand out. Oh well. Gratefully, they have all the time in the world to learn more about each other.

Humming happily to herself, Maka unlocks the door to Cupcake. The sound of snow crunching under unhurried footsteps head in her direction and stop right behind her. Without hesitation, her left pigtail immediately feels heavy, as if someone took hold of it.

She opens her mouth to say her partner’s name and laugh, but suddenly she’s being yanked by her hair. Her tongue catches between her teeth as she clenches her jaw to stymie the pain, the taste of iron bursting in her mouth. Chunks of cold, wet snow slip beneath the band her leggings, reminding her of the crawling spiders in Arachne’s passageway. Both the memory and this new sensation send shivers down her spine, but what truly freezes her heart is the sudden roaring of a chainsaw dangerously near her head.

Panicked, Maka jerks to the left violently, rolling over rocks and other forgein Earth things. With a sick, inkling suspicion of her attacker’s identity, she dares a glance to prove to herself that nightmares _do not_ come true. Unfortunately, she’s wrong. Above her, Giriko boils with rage as he rolls his ankle in a circle before driving his chainsaw-foot down toward her face.

At the last second, Maka jerks violently and rolls to her right. The tension on her skull instantly subsides, leaving her head feeling lighter. She claws snow off her face only to see Giriko scowling at the blonde locks tangled in his chain. Her hand comes up to touch her scalp to confirm - yes, one of her pigtails is missing. What’s worse is the blooming pain in her knee. Standing on it only causes it to buckle, taking her down and out for the count. She’s stuck. 

Soul materializes in a blur of black, scythe arm slashing across the back of Giriko’s neck. The man stumbles but doesn’t go down completely, but Eater doesn’t care - he steps forward, leg transforming into a pointy, straight blade that Maka hasn’t seen him use. Giriko catches Soul’s foot to avoid the strike at the exchange of cutting up his hands. Blood trickles onto the snow and both of their clothing.

Coming back to her senses, Maka jumps into action, reaching into her fanny pack for her gun. The laser bullets pulse through the cold air, zooming past Giriko’s head, a few managing to clip his winter jacket. If only she could shoot wildly - she can’t risk mistakenly shooting Eater.

Reminded of her existence, Giriko scowls in her direction, grunting with the strain of keeping Eater from impaling him. “YOU STUPID GIRL! DID YOU THINK YOU COULD GET AWAY WITH KILLING MADAM ARACHNE?”

“She was evil, and I would do it again if I could,” Maka shouts, opening fire more bravely, careful not to strike her partner. One shot even grazes Giriko’s cheek. “She drove you insane!”

“This isn’t madness,” Giriko declares, proud. “This is all me.” 

Eater sticks his arm out and drags it across Giriko’s chin, cutting deep but missing his throat. Growling, Giriko catches Soul’s blade - again, exposing himself to further palm lacerations -, and slams Soul into a nearby tree. Laser bullets fly from Maka’s gun barrel, one digging itself into his shoulder. 

“Gahhh,” Giriko grunts, flinching and covering the wound with his hand. Blood seeps between his fingers. 

Eater takes the opportunity to slash at Girikos ankles, thrashing about in a mad rage. “That’s for Wes! And for Mom! And Dad! And Maka’s _MOTHER!_ ”

A horrific, high-pitched cackle escapes Giriko’s lips. “Wes? As in, Wes _Evans?_ I killed all of them, cut them into pieces…” A dreamy smile plasters across his face at the memory. “Don’t tell me I missed one of you.” 

Maka wishes she could put her hands over her ears. She doesn’t want to hear Giriko taunting Soul, reminiscing how he had scraped his chainsaw across Eater’s chest for the fun of it. Although her hands shiver from both fear and cold, she aims another shot at Giriko, this time in the back. 

Eater takes the opportunity to jump to his feet, transform his whole body into a scythe, and dive into him. “Yeah, you missed _me_! Twice. At home, and in TJ. I won’t let you get away this time.” 

Now bathed in blood, Giriko shriek-laughs, its boisterous vibrato ricocheting off the trees. 

“Third time’s the charm,” he sneers before both feet propel him forward like a rocket, left arm now a bloody-thirsty chainsaw aimed at Eater’s stomach - and its tip cuts through his flesh easily, like paper.

Helpless, Maka fires round after round until Giriko plummets to the ground. He’s a stubborn one. He flinches, pulls himself up to his elbows to escape, and swiftly collapses face first into the snow under his own weight. He freezes midday through a breath and goes still, never to stir again. 

Alone and in disbelief, Maka crawls over to Soul, who lies deathly still in a pool of his blood, unaware of tiny snowflakes falling from the heavens to blanket him in white. She shakes him to no available. Laying her hand on his stomach to feel for movement doesn’t work because she’s trembling. Oh god, no, no, no. Even pressing her finger underneath his nostrils to feel his breath fails. 

Denial takes over. No. No. It can’t be. This isn’t happening…not again.

Maka Albarn _hates_ losing. She holds him, cradles him in her lap like all things precious and fragile, smoothing his hair out of his eyes, begging him to react. Please god, _please_ , not Soul, not _Eater_ , not now when he decided to live and fight. 

“Tell me you’re okay, Eater…” She clutches the front of his jacket. “Give me a sign.”

The wind howls, empty and bitter.

“S-soul?” No response, like a spotty distress signal, the transmission cut short. “Eater, I love you, tell me you love me! Like you always do! SAY IT _BACK_!” 

She cups his cheek, gripping tightly, angrily, and moves closer to his face. Begs his eyelashes to flutter so intensely that she imagines they do. Envisions his lips parting. Desperate, she rests her forehead on his, praying hard, begging, pleading. Crying...and then it’s like Death breathed life into him again because he stirs abruptly, sucking in a deep, rattly breath, as if he had been underwater for too long and could no longer bear it. 

“Oh, _Eater!_ You stayed! _”_

He peers at her through his eyelashes. “Maka?”

“Welcome back,” she whispers, voice cracking like glass but her chest swelling with warmth. Thank god, thank god…

Soul Evans smiles faintly at her, dimple and all, and reaches up to twirl her remaining ponytail around his finger. “This one was my favorite pigtail anyway,” he murmurs before resting his eyes again. 

**FIN**


End file.
